I have several blogs, and if you've been with me a while you know about "The Zen of Paco". Its my blog dedicated to my son who passed away October 23, 2006 from an asthma attack, he was 26 years old. For the most part that blog celebrates his life and chronicles my journey of grief and healing based on my faith.But...this blog is about me...
At this risk of sounding like I need to try on one of those little white coats with the extra long arms I'm going to be very open and tell you that since Andrew died there are portions of each day when I walk in that valley. You know the one. That valley of shadows where nothing makes sense anymore.
For the most part I strive moment by moment to be strong and not let anything get me completely but I would be lying to you if I didn't go ahead and admit that each day has its dark moments. It moves in like a mist and I am always unprepared for its arrival. Last night it crept in and it stayed with me a long time. I had been in bed resting and watching TV when it crawled right in bed with me and I cried uncontrollably for a long time. Okay, here's the truth of the matter. I keep his baby blanket, his ducky blanket, under my pillow where its been since he died. Last night I pulled it out and covered myself with it as I cried.
And today wasn't a big improvement on last night. I got up and went to work - ran some errands, came home and read the mail, went to cardio rehab, then to Walmart, the Farmer Market for tomatoes and then to drop off something for Dana where he works. Blah blah blah blah....
Each day for the last year, 10 months and some odd days I have been like the faceless figure in the illustration by the great M.C.Escher coming and going, up and down, and nothing changes, I go and go but never get anywhere. And whats more, everything is confusing, nothing makes sense when the darkness comes.
Now thankfully I don't live like this all the time. As a matter of fact for the most part I am able to enjoy life, laugh more than most and exercise creativity with some satisfaction. But with each passing moment I am aware of this shadowy place where many of us climb endless stairs to nowhere...I can see it clearer and clearer each day. I am beginning to see recognisable features on the faces of those on the staircase.
I want to yell and say "I am escaping! I am leaving this corridor of assembly line mentality and leaving through those arches into the sunlight...come with me...don't stay behind on the stairs - " But I am part of the system. I have a job with insurance, a mortgage, an address where monthly bills arrive...and I have the fear of stepping through the arch and into the sunlight. But...
...it won't always be this way. I can feel it. I am not suited for this corridor with its limited passages. I believe this is what the heart attack was saying to me. I feel, I have always felt, I was destined for something different. I can feel a strong pull on me and the gravitational force that is pulling me forward is not here, it there...just over there...its home.
Its home and it feels like dry air and the sun shine through the rain drops. The the air smells like wet dirt, sickly sweet cottonwood leaves lying gold and spotted on the ground, roasted green chile, pinon woodsmoke. It tastes like strong coffee boiled on a wood stove, red chile enchiladas, Indian fry bread with honey. It sounds like the creek flowing through the Taos Pueblo, the wind in the aspens, a Friday night high school football game, the roar of the UNM Pit, an old song sung in Spanish, a priest saying mass, Mariachis, the sound of fuel burning off to lift a hot air balloon. It looks like mountains, desert, plains. City and village. Fiestas and festivals. Lakes and rivers and creeks, windmills and ditches. Galleries and tourist traps. I see first americans and left over conquistadors, black and white, lost and found. Professors and homeless women, artists and teachers, curanderas and health clinics. Ranchers and farmers. I see...
I see what is out there, in the sunlight, beyond the dark corridor and I know, I know I have to find my escape...
2 comments:
All I can say is you have quite a way with words, descriptions, sharing and revealing inner emotions and I (even though there was pain in it) thoroughly enjoyed reading your thoughts. Maybe this is what you are meant to do, write and share those experiences, whether in a novel, or traveling and keeping journals and sharing them or getting youself back home to New Mexico.
I can not truly know what you have been through with Andrew's death, I can only compare it to losses in my life, but never a child.
Where you describe yourself at times, I never want to trod there. But... None of us knows for sure the certainty of outliving a child as it's not a certainty.
Cara, I will be back to follow your writings, you write so well.
hugs to you....spread those wings and fly away from the stairs....
as I think you are already doing...
andrew is there to lift you up if the currents get bumpy.
Sandy - Thank you so much for your words. I have wanted to be an artist and a writer my entire life...I better get on it don't you think?
PS: After much thought I have edited the word "Indians" in the second to last paragraph.
Post a Comment