My mind wonders off to its defensive state. Is this what it feels like to prepare for disaster?” What ifs” float in my head and my finger tips seem to do more of the speaking than my lips. ....
My eyes refuse to see anything real at this point and my heart seems to be headed backwards. I find myself twisting with a soul of a 12 yr old who needs direction, comfort and assurance that everything will be fine. Yet deep inside my head I’m asking myself that very question “will it?”
So as you all know my father s health took a turn for the worse. I guess that I get my fighter instinct from him because he’s hanging on. Yet I’m feeling that maybe it could be too little too late.
My main focus now is growing strong again so that whatever comes our way I’m prepared.
I love my father so very much that though the past can not be erased, it doesn’t really matter to me anymore. And although Id like for him to have a full recovery, I am not too blind to the fact that even if he does, there are many challenges ahead.....
So to watch him suffer ;or to let him go. It’s the most difficult thing for a grown woman whom allows herself to revisit childhood emotions, to have to decide from.
I’ve been sifting a lot threw the past lately. The very steps that made me who I am.....
I find myself stumbling upon memories that I assume I over the years have tried to suppress for some reason rather.....
I can see my mother ….she not in tears, she’s strong! But she has this worried look upon her face; her smile has melted into concern. She’s stuffing bags of clothes, we appear to be in a hurry , as if she’s expecting trauma or something….it appears to be somewhat dreamlike to me. But then I realize these are childhood memories.....
Many times my mother was our rock, my father a user, and a abuser. I think back to my mother’s voice and how it calmed even the scariest moments of our childhood. “You are my sunshine. my only sunshine…..” the song repeats over and over in my head in the tone of my mothers comforting voice. I can see my father with a band around his arm, his eyes so big and discolored, he doesn’t even see me. Doesn’t care. I feel afraid and yet I feel I need to protect my younger siblings from something rather. My mom in swift motion pulling and tugging, takes me and the other kids off to where I feel warm and safe….and then my memory fades.
.
“I hate you!” “You don’t understand me!!!!” Seems I have fast forwarded to my teen years.....
I can see my mother in tears, cuts across my wrist, my blood harden in the snow, a pill bottle slip threw my finger tips. My lips cold, but still taste of whiskeys and resin.....
I feel her tears drip upon me and a tube slide down my throat. A fait heartbeat beneath my chest. ....
The room growing dark, and cold. Then a light shine in my eyes, a room full of panic voices, sounds of monitors and bells. It all disappears and there’s my mama…….the most comforting image in the world!!
“Push! Davina Push!”I feel her hands rest upon my back and her voice brings some kind of emotion out of me. She makes me strong. In those few brief seconds I become a mother. I see her eyes swell with tears and the look upon her face seem to melt into my memory forever. She’s yet again made me strong, protected me, guided me. It’s now I realize she’s always done so……I worry I wont have what she has. Im scared of becomming a mother.
If only I had the strengths my mother does. I could take her pain. I could take his, I could make the world seem right again. I’d probably know why the emotions guide me where they do….....
Ive had all these memories one after another visiting my dreams, haunting me while I wake. Yet my mother seems to be in each and every one of them as my rock. ....
How could this be? Its my father who is sick right now, so why am I remembering such an ugly image of him?! And why is it that I find myself leaning on the comfort my mother has always provided me with?....
I know I am worried too about her, but is this normal?....
Ok so enough of all the twisted dimensions of my heart and soul…my minds everywhere it seems.
