"I dream of a hard and brutal mysticism in which the naked self merges with the nonhuman world and somehow survives...Paradox and bedrock."-Edward Abbey

15 December 2010

Slides Along the Spiral

One year to the day, my phone rang. My father told me my mother was being checked into the sickhouse. She was in a lot of pain. Seventeen days later, my brother and I were gazing upon her cold shell. To this day, I wished I'd had two coins to put over those half-lidded eyes.

I have been trying to avoid thinking of the date, but memory and internal wiring have not allowed. The realization has hung like storm clouds upon the event horizon. It's been a year to a day since that final slide along the downward spiral, and my mother is no less dead.

Those feelings of impotence and hopelessness. Similar feelings I had with the bruja a little less than a month ago. It's all so fresh. Saying it's almost too much would border upon melodrama. Still, there are moments it does seem a bit overwhelming.

I sip my tea and go about the day. Life does go on. It's just some are no longer a part of it. A sad thing, to be certain, but it's a fact I remind myself of, one day at a time.

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