Monday, November 28, 2005

There is this thing chewing on me right now. It's like I have turned a corner in my life, but there is still a haze. Nothing is like it was, but I can't really figure out how it is, either. There's more hurt than I am used to. My parents are really going to throw in the towel on their marriage. I don't think that it's the wrong thing, but it's a very difficult thing. My grandmother, who is only second to my parents in cultivating my personality and values and whatnot, is on her last lap. She has no reservations, and her life has been long and full. But my monuments are crumbling. These things, though, are not about me.
There is this amazing bittersweet, wideawake quality in the face of heartbreak. When I was in high school, there was this boy who would break my heart over and over. I tried to make it seem like that was not the case... but in my sadness, I was more awake to beauty. I could see more and feel more and hear more. Like there was an opening and I couldn't stop it all from coming in, the good and the bad.
My grandfather died when I was 11, and the night of his wake was one of the best in my life somehow. All my cousins were in town, and everyone was watching slides and eating and flipping through photo albums, and just remembering the good things. It wasn't boring or stiff or awkward. We were all just hurting and seeing and hoping together... something beyond ourselves and our comfort was awake, and we were listening.
My mom cried on the phone last night, she never cries for herself- only for movies and to make me feel extra-loved when i have to go back to some other state. We can only compare the state of things to a condemned building... you can't just keep slapping new boards on a rotting foundation. Sometimes with relationships, with our lives and hearts it has to be ripped down. It hurts like mad. It's terrible and wonderful and beautiful, and that's just how it works.

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