Absent

I have been absent.

From the page.  From myself.  From my need to express, unload, release, and expound.  It is difficult, raising a child with behavior issues.  I know, those of you who can relate, already know this.  I also know it is helpful to get the words and feelings and fears OUT of my head and heart.  And yet, I have not.

I have been absent.

My body and brain are starting to revolt.  Lack of expression (i.e. repressing the frustrating moments) is making me irritable more often.  Lack of exercise (repressing the stress and not releasing it physically) is making my body weak and toxic.  I know this.  But at the end of long, exhausting days, I find I just want to cocoon.  It is not the best choice.

I have been absent.

But not where my child is concerned.  Not where her future and schooling and medical intervention and aftercare is concerned.  I have labored over every detail, every choice, every future plan trying to make sure that we’re on the right path.  Worrying that I may make a mis-step, where she is concerned.  Being brave enough to let her fly, but always waiting to catch her when the bottom falls out.  I have NOT been absent from her.  But the strain of being on-point 24/7 for her and all that entails has been catching up with me lately.  And I am starting to realize that it’s because it’s unrealistic to be everything for her, and to her, and about her, and be everything else I’m supposed to be, simultaneously.  And doing all of that, while being absent from myself, makes me a worse version of me, and a less effective mother.

I have been absent.  I will try to be less so.

LIVE

9-11-14It’s the 13th eve of the 14th year. Pictures, comments and remembrances have already started, as to be expected. But this one caught my eye. And in my head, a resounding reply. “NO.”

My brain, my heart, my soul cried out “No more silence!”.  Not because I don’t honor them – all the beautiful souls lost and affected that day – but because I am tired of silence.  I am tired of solemnity.  And I think they would be tired of it too.

Don’t stop the world in their memory.  Don’t turn down your eyes in sorrow.  Don’t remember them only in that small window of time where there is no sound.

Live.  If you really want to honor them, honor their memory, share the legacy, then God damn it, LIVE.

Laugh out loud with your head thrown back.  Hug someone with all your might until you both tumble over.  Go outdoors and breathe the sun-warmed air of a late summer afternoon.  Sit and quietly watch the wind blow softly through the trees.  Read.  Talk.  SHARE.  Feel the music in your bones.  Eat and drink with your tribes until the last story is told and the embers grow dim.  Dance.  Sing.  Cry.  Run.  Explore.  And love.  Love.  LOVE.

But DON’T go silent.  Not anymore.  If you really want to remember them, it’s not about just one day.  Remember them EVERY day.

LIVE.