I spent a wonderful week with my daughter and mother and grandmother - 1 week, four generations, all women - in Pittsburgh swimming and going to the zoo and being away from my daily grind. Nice, but lacking in the relaxation department. I am happy to have this memory of my grandmother playing with my daughter in the early summer sun. My time, however, was bitter sweet. So much has changed in life and knowledge and expectations that I had to bite my tongue more often than not to prevent a generational war. I yearned for that "wisdom" to reach our conversations, but, alas, in 86 years too much difference taints perceptions. I smiled and walked away and did what my maternal instincts said was correct. I snapped a few pics and looked from the outside so that my movie would capture the sentiment instead.
As I watched time pass melding history and future I learned that a friend lay weak and worn in a hospice bed, waiting out his last days in suffering. An odd fear gripped me as I dug through my long stored hey days for the memories of youth and immortality that held our shared time. I remembered his kind face and troubled emotions and days that never ended. I thought of friends long since tucked away and places and events better left in the closet of phantoms. My heart aches for him. At moments I think of him alone in his pain and confused, much like my father had been, and say a few words to the universe begging for his comfort and whisper to him all the love that so many of us have for him. I want to see him, but want to remember him as my memories do. I will contact his father today. I'm afraid to call or write. I selfishly don't want to know when he's left this place, but I want him to know it's time to move on and be free from the plagues of this world. Another kind soul, an artist, a friend, fading to the other side.
And while I cry for Mark I cringe every time a CaringBridge update arrives in my inbox. Lisa fights the moster as well. I don't know that my heart can take much more. We all watched and followed her through her breast cancer treatments, disolution of her marriage and her young boys eyes looking upon their mom with adoration and strength. We cheered as the results seemed to say she was free of the demon that assulted her. Now it has returned with a vengence powerful and cruel, engulfing all but her beautiful soul. I panic for her and want to take away all the pain. I want her boys to hold her tight and her family to give her strength. I want the dragon slayed for good. I want a miracle to shine upon her. I believe. I believe. I want to make new memories with her and our children. I want to play on the beach together as we did what feels like so long ago. I want us to laugh and dance and be free.
And now I wait, incapable of fixing, curing or relieving. I am helpless and lost myself in the whys and hows and fuck this dirty world thoughts. I think of my own feelings and fears and sadness and none are so powerful as what I feel for these friends. I start to look at the puzzle pieces of my life. I notice that where there were missing pieces, now the holes are filling in. I think of the legacy that we leave behind and how immortality is nothing more than other's memories, the imprints passed on by the living. A completed puzzle forms out of the requiem my father's voice sings for the lost souls. I will follow this song and see where it takes me.
Today my vision forms a place where I can offer help to those that suffer disabilities or illness and a place where the community can create their immortality in dance, music, art, writing, drama, and all the muses. A place that can heal or comfort and make some happiness in place of the pain. A place where children through seniors can create and explore their passions and souls. I want to bring this place to life in honor of those who I love and miss.
