Friday, September 09, 2005
Liz
It was the phone call this morning that got me thinking, really. This is rambling, and it might not make sense, I'm just warning you now.

Bunny called me just as I was waking up. I was getting up, she knew that, no biggie. I wouldn't have her do any differently, just because oddly timed phone calls freak the shit out of me. If you call me in the night (exceptions for people in other time zones, double exceptions for 'Rez who just likes to surprise people), an adrenelin rush hits me and I tend to answer the phone with "Whathospital?Who?Aliveordead?WhatcanIdo?" which tends to freak out the person that called, who was probably just thinking that it was a good time to catch me, which it probably in fact was. By the time you've explained that it's just a social call, if I'm not in my car driving to the nearest hospital/morgue/drugstore, I'm at least standing at my front door, tugging on comfy shoes, keys in hand.
Yeah, I over-react. Just a smidge.

I used to think I was the only person like this. The only person that knows how out of the blue THOSE CALLS can come and deliver your worst nightmare before you're really even awake. I wonder if that fear ever really leaves you. That feeling that its just a matter of time before the next phone call comes and shatters your world again. That knowledge that the ax CAN and WILL fall.

I had to tell someone once about a death of a member of their family and as soon as she heard the words, "I need to talk to you," she KNEW what was up. She'd been down that road and I think it changes you forever, once you realize how easily you can lose someone.

I've lost a lot of dear people in my life, probably more than the average girl my age. A grandfather, two of my favorite cousins, and the most painful of all, my two best friends in high school. I've posted the backstory about Roger, here and about Liz here. (Mom, these links and this post are those posts you'll get all upset about. I don't feel like censoring myself, and I don't feel like getting another guilt-trip email from you because you don't like my version of what happened, so do us both a favor and just don't read these links, ok? Can you do that much for me? I care enough about you to not like it when you're upset, but I'm not going to sugarcoat the reality of some bad choices you and Dad made. It's the internet, you can do whatever you want, read it, but don't say I didn't warn you.)

Anyway, so I was thinking about how in some ways, getting that phone call about Liz's death was worse. I KNEW how much it was going to hurt. I KNEW what it was going to be like at her funeral. I KNEW the pain wasn't going to go away for a long time. I KNEW the road ahead, and I KNEW I wasn't up to it, not again.

I remember being so silent for days. Then in the parking lot after her funeral, I screamed. Screamed for about ten minutes straight. Scared the crap out of all of my friends except Lissy. She had the guts to avoid my blindly flailling arms and grab me tightly around the waist and hang on in a bear hug while I screamed like a madwoman.

It had been drilled into me that you were less attractive when you were hurting. You could have a few bad days but you could never push it, never show how much you were really hurting because everyone would turn and run. The only two people that had loved me for who I was were in the ground. The two people I couldn't survive without, were the losses I was mourning. So I thought.

As Lissy hugged me, I remember feeling so surprised that someone would still want to be my friend in that moment. That she would love me while I was crying and screaming and tears and snot were streaming down my face. I didn't have to hide, I could be loved for the hurting little girl I was. I stopped screaming. I laid my head on her shoulder. I felt the first glimpse of hope, and I KNEW I would make it through.


2 Comments:

Blogger dizzy von damn! said...

you can scream if you want to.

i won't mind.

Blogger Thérèse said...

**squeezes VJ's hand silently, until she wants a hug**

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