Flashback: His face, smiling, Flashback: his hospital room, Flashback: calming him, Flashback: Dr-“he’s dying,” Flashback: the tubes are gone, Flashback: maybe he’ll wake up?, Flashback: hard, heavy, labored breathing, Flashback: 6:50am, her voice, “HE’S GONE,” she screams.
Flashback: his peaceful body, drapped in his talit, his look serene, his body-at peace, but his soul is gone. Flashback: his funeral, tears of despair, pain, grief. Flashback: Silence, no words, nothing can be said, nothing can comfort. Flashback: a flood of childhood memories. His voice resonates in my head, “sweetheart, I love you,” “Motek Sheli, My beautiful redhead, I miss you,” He says over and over again. “I miss you too, Daddy, I love you too!”
Only now, these are flashbacks, images and sounds that flood my mind, cloud my thinking, disable me momentarily from participating in the world. Flashbacks that hit me when i least expect them. Flashbacks that haunt my dreams. How do I move beyond these flashbacks, these moments that hurt so bad? How do I move forward, to a place where the memories are strong, pleasant, helpful? Flashbacks, of a time of so many emotions, so much healing ot be done, so much grieving, so many emotions trapped inside, trapped in my heart, in my head, afraid to come out, suppressed. Flashbacks that reveal so much of who I am and mark so many moments in time. Flashbacks, that are so real, so vivid, so promient that I feel them, feel what i fel tthen, see what iw as wearing, see who was thee, feel the feelings, smell the room, see his face. Flashbacks that feel more real than life itself; flashbacks that are my reality.
I want to remember, I want to smile, laugh, feel his warmth in my life. I want to forget the pain and feel the love. I want him back, but I know that will never happen. But, when do I get to feel his presence, feel like he is with me, when do I stop feeling alone and abandoned and start feeling his presence again, watching me, guiding me?
It’s like a bad detox, flashbacks, chills, nightmares, when have I passed the point of pain, of struggle, of withdrawl, when do I begin to heal?
Author: Eve Posen
OUCH
**DISCLAIMER: Family, you will read this and be worried, don’t be, this is normal, these are my feelings and this is my outlet… if you don’t like it, you don’t have to read it**
Have you ever hurt so bad, you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but cry, and cry and cry? that’s pretty much where I am. It hurts, my heart is broken, my body is empty. I have been strong for so long, and i can’t anymore. I am weak, I am flawed, I am scared, I am alone. Because, when it comes down to it, there is no one I want to talk to, no one i feel I can open up to, no one who gets me. I don’t want any of that, I want my daddy. I want my life back. I want to smile and laugh and not mark it as the first time in 6 weeks i’ve done it. I want to go to shul and smile and enjoy the davening, not break down in tears. I want to get in my car and sing and enjoy the open road, not cry and scream because it is the only place I can do it.
Instead, I feel trapped, I feel stuck in myself, stuck in a place where I am waiting for the world to move on, and I feel like I am still in the same place. I want to be able to do my work, soar, but instead, I am stuck, unable to move forward, unable to conquer the hurt.
So, I will sit here, feel the pain, the hurt, the burn, and hope that one day I can move forward to a new place, to a place where it hurts a little bit less.
Normal?!
7 Sundays ago, my normal changed. I’m o.k…. but I’m wishing I was normal.
What I wouldn’t give to be normal. But i don’t even know what normal is anymore. I guess I was never normal, but now, I’m a part of this weird club, this group of people who’s normal isn’t what i want to be my normal. Now, i am without a parent, without my daddy, without a father. Now, my normal isn’t the same. Normal used to be waiting by the phone for that call, waiting to here from my mom about my dad, about my grandfather (papa). Normal used to be worrying, saying Misheberach. Normal used to be calling my daddy and discussing the texts I was learning, calling my Papa to hear the pride in his voice and the smile on his face (yes, you could here him smile when he spoke). Normal used to be wishing for the pain to stop, but appreciating the time I had.
And then, within a month, normal isn’t normal. I don’t have to have my cellphone with me 24/7. It’s freeing and terrifying. Normal used to be going home as much as I could because i didn’t know how much time I had left with them, and now, I know.
Now, Normal hurts, normal is being sad, is having flashbacks of those final moments in the hospital, of the days i sat staring at my phone, hoping for good news, and knowing it wouldn’t be. Now, normal is feeling alone, angry, sad, scared. Now, normal is wishing for the moment where i wake up from this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad dream.
Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone. Now, normal is gone, and I know what i had. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t happy all the time or even fair, but it was normal. All I want is to be NORMAL!
What I wouldn’t give to be normal. But i don’t even know what normal is anymore. I guess I was never normal, but now, I’m a part of this weird club, this group of people who’s normal isn’t what i want to be my normal. Now, i am without a parent, without my daddy, without a father. Now, my normal isn’t the same. Normal used to be waiting by the phone for that call, waiting to here from my mom about my dad, about my grandfather (papa). Normal used to be worrying, saying Misheberach. Normal used to be calling my daddy and discussing the texts I was learning, calling my Papa to hear the pride in his voice and the smile on his face (yes, you could here him smile when he spoke). Normal used to be wishing for the pain to stop, but appreciating the time I had.
And then, within a month, normal isn’t normal. I don’t have to have my cellphone with me 24/7. It’s freeing and terrifying. Normal used to be going home as much as I could because i didn’t know how much time I had left with them, and now, I know.
Now, Normal hurts, normal is being sad, is having flashbacks of those final moments in the hospital, of the days i sat staring at my phone, hoping for good news, and knowing it wouldn’t be. Now, normal is feeling alone, angry, sad, scared. Now, normal is wishing for the moment where i wake up from this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad dream.
Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone. Now, normal is gone, and I know what i had. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t happy all the time or even fair, but it was normal. All I want is to be NORMAL!
Don’t Speak
I feel like i am living in a world where I am not allowed to speak, where if I make a wrong move, don’t step too carefully, say the “wrong” thing, I will be despised, kicked out, alienated. Don’t speak, you can’t feel that way. who gets to decide how I feel? since when are feelings wrong? Don’t we each feel in our own ways because we are our own people, with our own minds, bodies, thoughts, sensations?
I am alone in my world, I am without my supporter, my teammate, my friend. I am trapped in a cycle of blame, of sorrow, of hate. I am trapped, nothing I do is right, nothing I do is fair, nothing I do matters. I am alone. Those who I thought cared for me, those who I thought would support me through crisis have turned on me. I spoke my mind, I acted out my feelings, I felt the world, I felt the changes, i feel the pain, I express myself, and it is all wrong.
Why do we have the need to critique other’s feelings? what gives someone the write to tell someone that they are wrong? that they’re words, unrelated to them cause pain? and for what? Wouldn’t we all be better off if we allowed individuals to feel the way they feel, to grieve the way they grieve, and work on ourselves. Wouldn’t we be better off without a holding a grudge? wouldn’t we be better off if we loved one another for our uniqueness, for our distinct experiences of the same things? Wouldn’t the world be a better place if we supported one another, if we tried to help, tried to understand another’s point of view?
Here I am, on the brink of a day when I am supposed to forgive, to ask for forgiveness, but, my heart is too heavy, my words blocked. I can’t act, I can’t move, i can’t connect. each time I try, I am wrong, I am the one at fault, my way isn’t right, my intimate feelings aren’t appropriate. How can I ask for forgiveness from someone who holds so much against me? How can I begin to ask to be forgiven if someone doesn’t see me for who I am, but only what I do, how i react in grief? And so I stand here, frustrated, empty, sad, lost. I stand here without love and support from those closest to me because i am wrong, I feel wrong, I act wrong.
This year has to get better, because it can’t possibly get any worse… ALONE!
I am alone in my world, I am without my supporter, my teammate, my friend. I am trapped in a cycle of blame, of sorrow, of hate. I am trapped, nothing I do is right, nothing I do is fair, nothing I do matters. I am alone. Those who I thought cared for me, those who I thought would support me through crisis have turned on me. I spoke my mind, I acted out my feelings, I felt the world, I felt the changes, i feel the pain, I express myself, and it is all wrong.
Why do we have the need to critique other’s feelings? what gives someone the write to tell someone that they are wrong? that they’re words, unrelated to them cause pain? and for what? Wouldn’t we all be better off if we allowed individuals to feel the way they feel, to grieve the way they grieve, and work on ourselves. Wouldn’t we be better off without a holding a grudge? wouldn’t we be better off if we loved one another for our uniqueness, for our distinct experiences of the same things? Wouldn’t the world be a better place if we supported one another, if we tried to help, tried to understand another’s point of view?
Here I am, on the brink of a day when I am supposed to forgive, to ask for forgiveness, but, my heart is too heavy, my words blocked. I can’t act, I can’t move, i can’t connect. each time I try, I am wrong, I am the one at fault, my way isn’t right, my intimate feelings aren’t appropriate. How can I ask for forgiveness from someone who holds so much against me? How can I begin to ask to be forgiven if someone doesn’t see me for who I am, but only what I do, how i react in grief? And so I stand here, frustrated, empty, sad, lost. I stand here without love and support from those closest to me because i am wrong, I feel wrong, I act wrong.
This year has to get better, because it can’t possibly get any worse… ALONE!
30 days
It’s been 30 days since i have seen you, thirty days since you were here with me. 30 days ago you were in my life, you were my life, you were here. 30 days i have cried, missing you, more each day. 30 days have gone by but everything feels so different, so broken, so chaotic. I still hear your voice in my head, smell your scent of cologne and cigarettes, see your face when i close my eyes. I miss you more than i have ever missed before. I am broken, lost in the world, lost without you. So many times I pick up the phone to call you, only to be greeted by your voicemail, and the realization that you’re not going to return my call. 30 days ago you were warm, breathing, in my arms, 30 days ago I held you, hugged you, kissed you.
So, what do I do? how do I go on? Life feels so different for me, but everyone around me is going on like nothing happened. For them, the world is the same, for me, the world is different, lonely, scary, the world is broken, my heart is broken.
30 days, and it doesn’t feel real, I feel like I am living in a dream, a nightmare, this can’t be reality. Only, I know that it is. 30 days gone by without you, daddy…
So, what do I do? how do I go on? Life feels so different for me, but everyone around me is going on like nothing happened. For them, the world is the same, for me, the world is different, lonely, scary, the world is broken, my heart is broken.
30 days, and it doesn’t feel real, I feel like I am living in a dream, a nightmare, this can’t be reality. Only, I know that it is. 30 days gone by without you, daddy…
Rabbi Eve Posen 