Living with the weight of the ancient pyramids has been a long standing quality in my life. I was responsible single handedly for my mother’s hatred of children, of the married life. I spent the greater part of my childhood fabricating a family I didn’t have, filling in the blanks where the pages lacked. It was consuming and exhausting. Looking back, was I trying to fit in? Was I trying to create an alter life to fill some deep seeded need? Or was I ashamed of my family, my life and of myself, who was afterall a part of it all? I don’t know if I ever really answered that question. I do know it has made me a loner, forty years ago it did and it still continues to.
Today I carry different burdens, heavier weights, in a more complex and unforgiving adult life. There is no time of year when that’s more apparent, visibly on the surface than Christmas.
Despite trying to find the glory in the moment, and blessings in the things I do cherish; I experience a profound emptiness, a sadness, a pain I can’t stop, can’t fix, and can’t accept. But it’s not about me accepting, that’s not a choice. It’s the pain of a lost child, a lost opportunity, a lost future. It’s a burden I carry always. It’s a burden I feel more on the holidays when the heartache is in every ornament, every tinseled tree, every gingerbread man. In every family I see, every proud parent who rightfully so boasts about the child(ren).
Tonight is no exception. There’s the snow on the ground. No stockings on the hearth. And nonetheless a heart broken, its spirit stripped, its lights extinguised. It’s me alone. Unable to understand or explain. Unable to shake the profound unhappiness I feel and that I see in the one I love. I can offer no help when I am utterly powerless to console even myself much less others and her.
You always think its going to be different. Baseball, tshirts, jeans, hugs during thunderstorms, kisses on the bruised knee, help with homework, up all night when their sick. Sports. video games, toys, movie night, the coolest Nikes, the hippest haircuts.,And you think love is enough. Love makes you make choices. To protect. But its not always enough. You don’t always win, despite following the rules, playing the game with heart. Sometimes you fall flat on your ass and fail miserably!
Merry Christmas Jared. For someone with hate in your heart, you are still loved by the hearts of others. I know I will never see you again and that your mother will die with a broken heart. That’s a burden I carry tonight, tomorrow, Always.