At first the stunned silence post Mr. X was to be expected. The wound was glaring, a disappointing systemic shock which seemed better treated with quiet. A tiny holy lull to honor a leaf as it fell from a tree. Parting happens everyday to all sorts of people, an event so comfortingly common yet no less painful for either the tree or the leaf. Who is what? It doesn't really matter anymore, just that it happens.
We deal with how it echoes our prior losses and threatens future hopes. It takes our words, it makes us solemn. For a little bit.
By capsule, I mean a good yet bitter pill. In a week, I was besieged with nostalgia and happiness, grateful for his health and our time together yet still familiar with the rage that came up when confronted by restrictions of that culture. And not to be left behind, sadness at recognizing how so many things I'd struggled with simply came from being raised by someone of a different age that couldn't see its oppressiveness towards women.
Now this time together unrolled the equation that made me, so starkly - it was almost mathematical. Like it or not, we are our people.
With no blame or regret, it was enough to finally feel clear sighted and bigger than the mysteries of my childhood. It's undoubted that it's still all unraveling inside me, with no real need for hawkishness or obsession. There's a natural relief as I feel myself backing away from it, one step at a time, because I'd found information that finally removed the lop-sidedness in the viewpoint I'd held before. Something I was always secretly suspicious of. And that now, my compassion was equal for both my parents, when it hadn't been the case before.
So you see, dear readers, there isn't one word I could use for all this. This marbling of grief and joy, gratefulness and sorrow. This is at best, an explanation of my absence. The Universe, perhaps in its infinite kindness, threw one project after another at me and I'd also found myself birthing a business with skills I knew I had but am constrained from fully using at the day job.
Months ago, I'd sent the Pegasus a book called The Way of Transition, and if it had taught me anything, I was slip-sliding into one right now. Is it any surprise therefore, that after completing the project, finally being lover-less and watching the circle slowly close on my family of origin issues, the opportunity for better sight came along?
They were relieved when finally, I'd staggered out of bed 24 hours later, asking what time dinner was and why it was so flipping bright. I'd been under the impression I was only out for an hour or two, not a whole day.
"Darling, it's 9," Frugen #1 patiently explained. "9?," I repeated holding on to the walls as my eyes adjusted, "then why is it still light out? Odd for 9pm, it's like summer." I was feeling my head and realized they'd taped hard plastic eye shields to my face, I winced as I ripped them off.
"No, sweetie, it's 9 AM the NEXT day, you've been out for a day," they repeated in unison. I blinked, thinking it was a joke, looking for my phone to check the time and finally noticing they both looked bed-worn themselves. "You're a really easy patient to take care of,"Frugen #2 piped up, "you never stirred. Not once, sweetie!"
I couldn't see well before and now I could. Clearly. I sat up and smiled at both of them beaming at me, wondering what other five impossible things there were that I could look forward to.