Waves

It comes in waves.

June is always the worst. 

It usually hits me all at once. 

Like some sort of horrible tornado.

Touching down in some places, leaving others safe and secure.

But leaving a path of destruction behind it.

But now . . . right now.

Waves.

It came earlier this year.

At least a week ahead of schedule.

No trigger.

No panic attack.

No premeditation over the moment when I allow myself to let go.

To be angry.

To cry.

To mourn.

To grieve.

I was thinking about writing my story. 

About the chapters that are soon to come. 

About all those years ago. 

About Aunt Kathy. 

About Grandma. 

About Mom.

I want the details. 

I want to write it accurately. 

But remembering is so hard.

Remembering hurts.

It's too late to concentrate on details. 

I can write tomorrow. 

I need sleep now.

So I close my eyes.

I'm left with one memory.

One single memory that breaks the damn and suddenly tears soak through my pillow.

I have to control myself.

If Matt wakes, he'll worry.

After all, it's too soon for his wife to be losing it.

She's got another ten days until her annual breakdown.

One memory has me leaving my room covering my mouth.

I need an escape.

Need to cry alone.

Need to write.

Writing helps get it out of me in a healthy way.

Out of hearing distance I have to make a sound.

It hurts too much to be silent.

Silence makes me feel guilty.

Like I'm ignoring it all.

Trying to forget.

But I need to remember.

One memory.

An image seared into my eyes, mind, heart and soul.

I remember it all.

The sounds.

The feelings.

The smells.

The sight.

Two headstones and a casket.

Three parents gone from this world.

Women taken too early.

To the left a large vertical headstone marks Kathy's grave.

The casket in the center, shiny and covered in roses is Grandma. 

At fifteen I fully understand death.

I'm angry.

I'm devastated.

I'm empty.

The family gathers around the casket and one another.

I take a moment to myself.

I remove a rose from Grandma's casket, and I step to the right.

My knees buckle and my new black dress catches freshly mowed grass.

I set the rose down on the headstone.

Mom.

I hear people behind me finally cry aloud.

I was their breaking point.

Three mothers dead now.

The sight for them is too much to bear.

Poor girl.

I can feel the sympathy coming at me.

I can't take it.

I just want to be left alone with my Mom.

All of them.

The memory is hard to relive.

Causes me to panic.

Makes me check Matt.

Is he breathing? Moving? Alive?

Can't tell in the dark.

I pull at the hair on his arm and he swats his hand at me, still sleeping.

Relief.

Thank you, God.

Some days I'd rather feel numb.

I can be numb all year long. 

Be calm. 

Collected. 

But June...

That's another story.

I give myself permission to lose it.

To cry.
To scream.
To be angry.

To really, really, really miss them.

Miss her.

On Kathy's headstone it says, "Legend" across the center of it in big letters.

Grandma's should say, "Hero".

Mom's should say, "Angel".

One day, hopefully a very, very long time from now....

Mine will say, "Chosen".