Sunday, November 27, 2005
God is a deaf cat
A cramp forms in the arch of my foot forcing me to stir. I have not really been asleep again, but wish it to avoid thinking. Better to dream and believe it reality than face what appears to be reality.
My body shudders with the silent uncontrollable racking sobs that want to escape. It is hard to breathe.
I avoid the mirror but am drawn to it with a weird curiosity. I need to look. I need to see if the image that was there the last time I looked stares back at me.
I am transfixed. It is not my image I see but something akin to what I am used to, yet not.
A grotesque gargoyle with slits for eyes and all the pain stares back.
I bury my face in my hands thinking I can wipe away this image and look again...it is still there.
Not able to look anymore I put on my glasses. This masks some of it, but the image is still looking back at me.
I cannot watch in morbid fascination any longer and rise hoping no one else will be up in the house, knowing someone will be.
I walk the dog. My breathing is shallow, and comes hard. I light a cigarette and suck in the familiar smoke.
It is not the deep pull, I am incapable of that this morning. tears come unbidden and there is a pain in my chest, in my stomach, my back is aflame with muscle spasms.
The dog is ready to go back in. I wipe away the tears and go to my computer which has mysteriously put itself into some kind of sleep or off state which it does not want to come out of, much like me I think.
I look at my watch even though I know the time. I know they have turned off the machines. I spoke with Charlie last night.
It was the longest conversation we have ever had. I heard in her voice what I saw in my mirror at the beginning.
I heard her relax by the end of it. She needed reassurance that she was not a heartless bitch from someone who she knew loved her sister.
I cannot breathe. There is a pain in my stomach, and empty ache, my lungs struggle to pull in oxygen and I wonder if I can’t breathe because she cannot breathe.
I wonder if I will ever breathe again. The pain increases and I struggle to appear semi-normal as I do not wish to worry my parents.
They know someone I care for is dying. They heard my end of the conversation with Charlie, it could not be avoided.
I put my cell phone on the desk next to me so I can see it has not been turned off, in case Charlie calls to tell me it is over.
Will I be able to breathe again then? Or will I continue to suffer?
I tell myself she will be out of pain. I know she had the gift of being able to talk to folks who had passed. I wonder if she will come to me if only in my dreams to give me the chance to tell her I love her, that I want to hold her.
I imagine myself telling her I see she is going to be late for our date to take her children to Europe, by a lifetime.
It was a joke between us. We only ever had one "date" it was the set up meeting we had. One of the children was sick and she had to postpone the date for a week. I told her she was a week late for our date.
I find myself talking to the deaf diabetic cat. I think, God is a deaf cat. I think of all the times I have asked for God’s intercession. All the times I have offered myself in the place of someone I love dying. Let them live, take me instead.
I remember someone, maybe many someone's telling me that God answers our prayers, it is just that sometimes the answer is no.
I think, the answer for me is always no. It is like talking to a deaf cat. Independent of me or my feelings, the deaf cat will do what he wants.
The knot in my stomach tightens. I try to relax and find my muscles also acting like deaf cats. Uncooperative, stubborn painful.
I think of her children, picture them in my mind weeping for their mother, and weep silently with them. I think how winter is always when losses seem to happen for me.
I think how the holidays will not be very cheery for her children now. It is 10:55am. My breathing is somewhat less labored. I wonder if that means she is dead and out of pain. Another wave of silent racking sobbing shudders through me. I am not gifted with visits from those who have passed.
The distractions of daily needs come, and I end this here.. knowing it is not over for me.. the grieving has just begun.
My body shudders with the silent uncontrollable racking sobs that want to escape. It is hard to breathe.
I avoid the mirror but am drawn to it with a weird curiosity. I need to look. I need to see if the image that was there the last time I looked stares back at me.
I am transfixed. It is not my image I see but something akin to what I am used to, yet not.
A grotesque gargoyle with slits for eyes and all the pain stares back.
I bury my face in my hands thinking I can wipe away this image and look again...it is still there.
Not able to look anymore I put on my glasses. This masks some of it, but the image is still looking back at me.
I cannot watch in morbid fascination any longer and rise hoping no one else will be up in the house, knowing someone will be.
I walk the dog. My breathing is shallow, and comes hard. I light a cigarette and suck in the familiar smoke.
It is not the deep pull, I am incapable of that this morning. tears come unbidden and there is a pain in my chest, in my stomach, my back is aflame with muscle spasms.
The dog is ready to go back in. I wipe away the tears and go to my computer which has mysteriously put itself into some kind of sleep or off state which it does not want to come out of, much like me I think.
I look at my watch even though I know the time. I know they have turned off the machines. I spoke with Charlie last night.
It was the longest conversation we have ever had. I heard in her voice what I saw in my mirror at the beginning.
I heard her relax by the end of it. She needed reassurance that she was not a heartless bitch from someone who she knew loved her sister.
I cannot breathe. There is a pain in my stomach, and empty ache, my lungs struggle to pull in oxygen and I wonder if I can’t breathe because she cannot breathe.
I wonder if I will ever breathe again. The pain increases and I struggle to appear semi-normal as I do not wish to worry my parents.
They know someone I care for is dying. They heard my end of the conversation with Charlie, it could not be avoided.
I put my cell phone on the desk next to me so I can see it has not been turned off, in case Charlie calls to tell me it is over.
Will I be able to breathe again then? Or will I continue to suffer?
I tell myself she will be out of pain. I know she had the gift of being able to talk to folks who had passed. I wonder if she will come to me if only in my dreams to give me the chance to tell her I love her, that I want to hold her.
I imagine myself telling her I see she is going to be late for our date to take her children to Europe, by a lifetime.
It was a joke between us. We only ever had one "date" it was the set up meeting we had. One of the children was sick and she had to postpone the date for a week. I told her she was a week late for our date.
I find myself talking to the deaf diabetic cat. I think, God is a deaf cat. I think of all the times I have asked for God’s intercession. All the times I have offered myself in the place of someone I love dying. Let them live, take me instead.
I remember someone, maybe many someone's telling me that God answers our prayers, it is just that sometimes the answer is no.
I think, the answer for me is always no. It is like talking to a deaf cat. Independent of me or my feelings, the deaf cat will do what he wants.
The knot in my stomach tightens. I try to relax and find my muscles also acting like deaf cats. Uncooperative, stubborn painful.
I think of her children, picture them in my mind weeping for their mother, and weep silently with them. I think how winter is always when losses seem to happen for me.
I think how the holidays will not be very cheery for her children now. It is 10:55am. My breathing is somewhat less labored. I wonder if that means she is dead and out of pain. Another wave of silent racking sobbing shudders through me. I am not gifted with visits from those who have passed.
The distractions of daily needs come, and I end this here.. knowing it is not over for me.. the grieving has just begun.
