Fourteen

My work friends joke about how much I love Eminem. I could say that it’s because everything he says is real and I respect him ’cause he tells it, (and Aron’s jealous because I talk about him 24/7), but that’s only one part of it.

8 Mile was the movie that was on the night that Mum died. It was what I was watching when she left her room for the first time I’d seen that day, and lay on the couch in the living room next to me. It was an awkward movie to be watching with her, but it was nice to see out, and her presence was nice. I’ve talked about this before but, when the movie finished and I turned off the TV, mum looked up at me and spoke words that seemed insignificant at the time, but that I’ll never forget. “So that’s it? It’s over?” 

“Yes mum, it’s finished,” I replied and walked her back upstairs. I quickly called my then boyfriend to say goodnight before I went back to her room and insisted on spending the night with her despite her objections. That night, she asked me to hold her, and I did, the way she used to hold me when I was little and she was trying to get me to sleep. It was one of the last times that I heard her voice.

I didn’t know at the time that she had taken something – I still don’t know what the something was – just something that was enough to finish it. For it to be it; over. 

No matter how many years go by – it’s fourteen this year – and how well I think I’m doing, August seems to have this way of rearing its ugly head and reminding me of its presence and the significance that it has. But despite how ugly it can get, it always manages to give the gift of perspective when it is all too easy to get caught up on the insanity of life and the noise around me. While that night is one that I will always hold close to me, I have also learnt that there are parts of it that I have to let go, less they should consume me. I’ve seen what holding on does, and all it seems to bring is a toxic kind of hurt that nobody should have in their life. 

I have learnt that some people will not hear you, no matter how loudly or profoundly you speak. I’ve learnt to wish them well and let them go too.

Life is weird. One minute people are there, and they’re healthy. The next they’re not. The only thing that we can do is try and enjoy it while we’re here, and to try to be kind to each other while we do it. We won’t always be able to, but we can try. It’s as simple and cliché as that.

Now that I think of it, I don’t think I’ve watched 8 Mile again since that night. I must not be able to bring myself to. Lose Yourself however, remains one of my favourite songs of all time: a story of resilience that I suppose I subconsciously associate with that part of my life. Weird, weird life.

Quiet

Quiet  

It's been

thirteen years

since The Silence 

and sometimes 

it still visits.

Only now it's a little 

different.

It's still deafening

but

not deadening

Is it not as strong as it

once was?

Or am I just a little stronger?

I still hear it

from time to time

It tries to strip me 

of my power 

Back down to that 

unsure

naive teenager

it still wants me to be

It tries to take me back to 

then 

when I thought 

that we were friends 

- The Silence and I -

before I realized that real friends

help to repair voids

not 

consume you with them.

Now beyond 

The Silence

that once consumed me

I hear it

I hear

the birds chirping

the wind blowing

the planes flying overhead

and I swear if I listen

hard enough

I could almost hear the sun shining  

I hear the world

as life carries on

beyond the silence.

Now it's just

Quiet

And it's nice.

*********

Today marks thirteen years, to the day that our family changed forever. I won't rehash the details that I've already written about in years passed. That night has a compartment in my head that replays flashes so clearly and vividly that I try to only very carefully and occasionally open it's door. 

In many ways I still feel like that sixteen year old girl who didn't know. Who didn't know that things had gotten that bad. Who didn't know what she'd done. Who didn't know that she was dying. Who didn't know how to save her. Who didn't know about life or the toll it can take on people. But the older I get the more I realise that no one knows really, and that the best we can do is to try and be there as much as we can, and do as much as we can do, and be the best people that we can be for ourselves and for those around us.

I would like to think that I've become a person that she could be proud of. That she would approve of (most of) my decisions and choices and that she would be happy knowing that I've got a good head on my shoulders and have surrounded myself with the type of people that will enrich my life as much as they've allowed me to theirs. That she would see the balance of strength and sunshine that she passed down to me and recognise, that I'll be okay. And I'll make sure we all will.

Sometimes

Sometimes.

It’s been

Eleven years –

that’s

one hundred and thirty two months

five hundred and seventy two weeks

four thousand and eighteen days

ninety six thousand, four hundred and thirty two hours

five-point-seven-eight-five-nine-two-million minutes

or too many seconds to count.

On one hand, you feel a lifetime away

On the other, I can still see your smile;

smell the perfume on your clothes;

feel you push the hair out of my face

and tuck it behind my ear

as the gentle sweep of the fan in your other hand

tickles my cheeks

and I listen to you

sing me to sleep.

I’m a real adult now –

Not just the pretend grown-up

you forced me to be when you left

all those years

(months/weeks/days/hours/minutes/seconds)

ago.

I have a real big-person job

And a real house (and a real mortgage)

And real responsibilities

And a love more real

than I thought I could know.

I can actually function on my own

And for the most of it,

I am happy

And thankful

And grateful for all of the amazingness

that life’s given me.

But sometimes,

Just sometimes –

I miss you.

Okay that’s a lie –

I miss you always.

And I’m sorry that you’re not around

To see everything

That I’ve come to be

Despite the you-shaped hole

that was left behind.

It’s okay though,

I only let it get in the way of my happiness

Sometimes.