From Out Of Nowhere

"You could spend hours just watching people, but it’s nothing compared to the time and money that certain people have spent watching you."

An email arrived at 1am from a ghost. Someone I haven't heard from in years:


"You ok? I think I feel you. From miles away. It's not good. What's going on? Something is going on.


Sigh. "

I read it around 3:40am...


I don't know how you did it... you knew before I did.... I'm about to share something very eerily personal.... something you just had a premonition about hours before it took place... I'm actually physically shaking....  I had read a blog post... the private message I wrote to the author directly after:


Damnit. Oh Honey, I love you...I just read your blog.... I'm sobbing my eyes out.... through blinding tears, I carefully selected the first link taking me back to the curb appeal house post... the red door, your emotions overwhelming me like blood soaking the crisp white of the page. YOUR blood... YOUR heart. Pain. Suffering. Sadness. Your attempts at reaching out. To strangers. To me. Unreturned. I thought the previous bout of as-yet-unending sobbing was monumental... Now I'm actually wailing and sobbing... that deep, hysterical sobbing that echos from the depth of the catacombs containing absolutely countless numbers of lost souls... I select the second link... The door is blue. 

My instinct is to shut it all down, grab my keys, crudely scribble a note of brief explanation to Brian and the boys, and hit the road hoping to reach you as quick as possible to just hug you and hold on for dear life. Some small ounce of common sense... or sanity... no, probably fear... stops me dead in my tracks. I'm not coping. My grief is so different. It comes from a different place. From a different situation. So how is it so very similar? Your words are more than familiar. I selfishly see them as my own. I want to email just about every last person I've encountered in the past six months and somehow broadcast your words at deafening volumes, over-dubbed with my own voice shouting "DO YOU FUCKING GET IT YET!!!!???? THIS!!!! NO, I'M NOT OK!!!!" I'm thinking that possibly wouldn't be received well. Even worse? At all. The file wouldn't even be opened. Yet again, there would be no validation. Shit. I'm an awful person. But I'm hurting. 


Goddamnit, I may be hurting more today than the day it happened. I'm "supposed" to be over it. That's how I feel every time someone.... ANYONE.. asks how I'm doing. They're not even referring to THAT so I try not to respond from a place of THAT. THAT is where I'm at, though. And they're tired of hearing it. Maybe they don't even know? I almost feel that would be worse... they have no business in my life, no, not even simply to hand me change for the pack of smokes I just bought, if they don't understand it was the biggest, most excruciatingly devastating event to ever happen to me!! It's not getting better. Why the hell isn't it getting better? I don't know. I'm fairly positive grief counselors don't exist... they're the proverbial men behind the curtains, but these curtains are fabricated from heartless drones working the phone trees. What a sick thing. I've shut down because I've long since lost the strength to reach out into the emptiness for help I've decided will never come. I'm in a dark place while the sun is shining on the rest of the world and the birds are chirping, which further invalidates my very existence on this planet. 


I think I've been waiting for this poignant moment to commence where I recognize the beginning of truly entering a set phase of grieving I know I've needed all this time. And it will be precise and tangible and I'll come out the other side healed or fixed or at peace. That point where I actually CAN email or text or call or just utter the words "I'm all better now! It happened! It's over!!" All that while smiling ear to ear. It's just not happening. 


This is supposed to be a letter filled with sunshine and eloquence and baby pandas and rainbows, but I can only be honest with you and that is to say you moved me and I'm here. I'm grateful for you and not a day has passed where I don't think of you. Not a single day, even through my selfishness, where I so desperately wish I could take away your pain and shower you with gifts of happiness and peace. You have forever touched my life in ways I never could have fathomed and I really just need you to know all of that. 


For once in my life, I'm not in need of validation... I just needed to tell you. I love you, Honey. I don't have all the answers... I don't even have one. But I'm here. That is to say, I'm there. Right there next to you because you're not alone and now I realize I'm not either. Thank you.


How did you know????? I'm shaking. 

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Kitty

Monday, May 16, 2016

From Out Of Nowhere

"You could spend hours just watching people, but it’s nothing compared to the time and money that certain people have spent watching you."

An email arrived at 1am from a ghost. Someone I haven't heard from in years:


"You ok? I think I feel you. From miles away. It's not good. What's going on? Something is going on.


Sigh. "

I read it around 3:40am...


I don't know how you did it... you knew before I did.... I'm about to share something very eerily personal.... something you just had a premonition about hours before it took place... I'm actually physically shaking....  I had read a blog post... the private message I wrote to the author directly after:


Damnit. Oh Honey, I love you...I just read your blog.... I'm sobbing my eyes out.... through blinding tears, I carefully selected the first link taking me back to the curb appeal house post... the red door, your emotions overwhelming me like blood soaking the crisp white of the page. YOUR blood... YOUR heart. Pain. Suffering. Sadness. Your attempts at reaching out. To strangers. To me. Unreturned. I thought the previous bout of as-yet-unending sobbing was monumental... Now I'm actually wailing and sobbing... that deep, hysterical sobbing that echos from the depth of the catacombs containing absolutely countless numbers of lost souls... I select the second link... The door is blue. 

My instinct is to shut it all down, grab my keys, crudely scribble a note of brief explanation to Brian and the boys, and hit the road hoping to reach you as quick as possible to just hug you and hold on for dear life. Some small ounce of common sense... or sanity... no, probably fear... stops me dead in my tracks. I'm not coping. My grief is so different. It comes from a different place. From a different situation. So how is it so very similar? Your words are more than familiar. I selfishly see them as my own. I want to email just about every last person I've encountered in the past six months and somehow broadcast your words at deafening volumes, over-dubbed with my own voice shouting "DO YOU FUCKING GET IT YET!!!!???? THIS!!!! NO, I'M NOT OK!!!!" I'm thinking that possibly wouldn't be received well. Even worse? At all. The file wouldn't even be opened. Yet again, there would be no validation. Shit. I'm an awful person. But I'm hurting. 


Goddamnit, I may be hurting more today than the day it happened. I'm "supposed" to be over it. That's how I feel every time someone.... ANYONE.. asks how I'm doing. They're not even referring to THAT so I try not to respond from a place of THAT. THAT is where I'm at, though. And they're tired of hearing it. Maybe they don't even know? I almost feel that would be worse... they have no business in my life, no, not even simply to hand me change for the pack of smokes I just bought, if they don't understand it was the biggest, most excruciatingly devastating event to ever happen to me!! It's not getting better. Why the hell isn't it getting better? I don't know. I'm fairly positive grief counselors don't exist... they're the proverbial men behind the curtains, but these curtains are fabricated from heartless drones working the phone trees. What a sick thing. I've shut down because I've long since lost the strength to reach out into the emptiness for help I've decided will never come. I'm in a dark place while the sun is shining on the rest of the world and the birds are chirping, which further invalidates my very existence on this planet. 


I think I've been waiting for this poignant moment to commence where I recognize the beginning of truly entering a set phase of grieving I know I've needed all this time. And it will be precise and tangible and I'll come out the other side healed or fixed or at peace. That point where I actually CAN email or text or call or just utter the words "I'm all better now! It happened! It's over!!" All that while smiling ear to ear. It's just not happening. 


This is supposed to be a letter filled with sunshine and eloquence and baby pandas and rainbows, but I can only be honest with you and that is to say you moved me and I'm here. I'm grateful for you and not a day has passed where I don't think of you. Not a single day, even through my selfishness, where I so desperately wish I could take away your pain and shower you with gifts of happiness and peace. You have forever touched my life in ways I never could have fathomed and I really just need you to know all of that. 


For once in my life, I'm not in need of validation... I just needed to tell you. I love you, Honey. I don't have all the answers... I don't even have one. But I'm here. That is to say, I'm there. Right there next to you because you're not alone and now I realize I'm not either. Thank you.


How did you know????? I'm shaking. 

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