three sad things
Because I love to quantify:
1.) I took Bec to the airport this morning. But first, we went to breakfast and lingered longer than necessary over our greasy-spoon meal b/c she really didn't want to leave and I really hated to see her go. She wasn't looking forward to more time in NY in the wake of her break-up and I'll just miss all the good conversations. Sad.
2.) I had my last session w/ my counselor at school. And, like usual, I went in thinking I already knew everything and didn't really need to talk to her and, like usual, she surprised me. I think she surprised herself, this time. In the middle of what seemed like a mundane conversation, she uncovered a real nugget of something and it made me leave with a big smile and a really good feeling about my mental health. I won't make any more appointments with her this semester b/c I don't need to, and she won't be around next year, so this was it. Oh well. Bye counselor-lady. You were helpful.
3.) Finally, my brother Alex. Twin brother of Isaac, the one who died. He's on my MySpace account (yeah, I know, I think I'm too old for that shit anyway) -- and he's always posting bulletins that say things like "Answer these six questions and learn about your friends!" or "Repost this if you love jesus." Yeah. Ok. So, today's bulletin from Alex was "Answer all these questions about your childhood." Generic questions -- but his answers were pretty heartbreaking. Examples -- Q: Who's your best friend? A: I've never had a "best" friend. (Real answer: I didn't need one. I had a twin brother until I was 20. Now he's dead and I'm alone.) Q: Who were you closer to, your mom or your dad? A: Neither. I was neither's favorite -- I was always the "other" twin. (Subtext: I was the relatively healthy twin, the one not in constant-crisis, the one not developmentally disabled and needy, the one not rendered "cute" by my disability. I was the one who lived.) Q: Are you still just a big kid? A: Never even had the option, adulthood was thrust upon me at a young age. (Background whisper: I was my brother's keeper. It was always a serious job.)
Jesus Christ.
1.) I took Bec to the airport this morning. But first, we went to breakfast and lingered longer than necessary over our greasy-spoon meal b/c she really didn't want to leave and I really hated to see her go. She wasn't looking forward to more time in NY in the wake of her break-up and I'll just miss all the good conversations. Sad.
2.) I had my last session w/ my counselor at school. And, like usual, I went in thinking I already knew everything and didn't really need to talk to her and, like usual, she surprised me. I think she surprised herself, this time. In the middle of what seemed like a mundane conversation, she uncovered a real nugget of something and it made me leave with a big smile and a really good feeling about my mental health. I won't make any more appointments with her this semester b/c I don't need to, and she won't be around next year, so this was it. Oh well. Bye counselor-lady. You were helpful.
3.) Finally, my brother Alex. Twin brother of Isaac, the one who died. He's on my MySpace account (yeah, I know, I think I'm too old for that shit anyway) -- and he's always posting bulletins that say things like "Answer these six questions and learn about your friends!" or "Repost this if you love jesus." Yeah. Ok. So, today's bulletin from Alex was "Answer all these questions about your childhood." Generic questions -- but his answers were pretty heartbreaking. Examples -- Q: Who's your best friend? A: I've never had a "best" friend. (Real answer: I didn't need one. I had a twin brother until I was 20. Now he's dead and I'm alone.) Q: Who were you closer to, your mom or your dad? A: Neither. I was neither's favorite -- I was always the "other" twin. (Subtext: I was the relatively healthy twin, the one not in constant-crisis, the one not developmentally disabled and needy, the one not rendered "cute" by my disability. I was the one who lived.) Q: Are you still just a big kid? A: Never even had the option, adulthood was thrust upon me at a young age. (Background whisper: I was my brother's keeper. It was always a serious job.)
Jesus Christ.
posted by reasonably prudent poet at 11:06 PM
2 Comments:
This is poetry. Beautifully crafted.
My brother died, too. It's really hard and no one else really gets it.
thanks, michele. yeah... nobody else gets it. in my experience of it, it became something very invisible to even the closest people in my life. grief makes people so uncomfortable. it's pretty sad, really.
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