The Road Unavoidable

I've not really even begun to deal with the bulk of things yet, but already I had to walk that road, the road unavoidable. Just looking through a drawer, I stumbled across mementos of three major losses. At first, I was alright. At first. But then I found the memorial card from Nana's service. Seeing her name printed in black and white. The date of her birth. The date of her death. Both of which are forever committed to my memory, because the second is one of the worst days of my life. Reading the poem and seeing the picture that I helped pick out, because I knew she would like them. Because I knew her so well. My eyes began to sting as I remembered the gold heart pendant she gave me when I graduated from eight grade. My cheek wet when I thought about how she grabbed my hand and kissed it when I showed her my engagement ring. The last time I saw her. A punch to my throat when I remembered how it is over, and that she wouldn't meet the man I love now. My face hot as I thought about how I failed, and the people I've hurt. My legs curled to my chest, as the torrent comes. The D-word. I will be one of those statistics. My chin upon my knees, I think of the first I hurt, the second I failed, the friend I lost, the woman who died. My entire body shakes, my legs catching the grief falling from my chin. Every loss, every failure rushes back to me in one painful blow. My head thrown back, my mouth open in a silent scream, I wish it would all stop. I wish I could stop. I want the tears to end, the sobs to retreat, the process to be over.

All from one small drawer, half full of things long forgotten.

So many other drawers. Small boxes everywhere. Trinkets hidden in a corner. All waiting for me. All with their own little reminders, their stories, their psychometric images to share with me. To make sure I don't forget. To chip away at me and hurt me. To (hopefully) comfort me. To remind me how fortunate I've been.

To remind me how fortunate I am now. 

I cannot avoid this road, short of hurling a Molotov cocktail through the window of this apartment. I cannot erase the past, nor can I forget it. I remind myself it is what made me who I am today. All of it, made me the woman I am right this very moment. I've got to walk this road. The one paved with glass, broken in places. I've no shoes to wear, nothing to protect me from the lacerations. And I'm not supposed to. It's nearing the end of the road. The mile of old memories sits ahead. Memories of good times. Memories of bad times. Memories of what is now gone.   All with their own special pain. I don't want to drag myself along this part of the road, especially not this part! But if I don't, I won't get to the end.