I keep dreaming I have gerbils down the basement that I have forgotten to feed, and fear going down there, where I think I'll find them mummified, starved. Of course, the fact that my mom DID starve herself is probably at least partially related to that, the feeling that I have of being responsible in part for it, though there was little I could do, really, short of forcing her to eat, putting a tube down her throat. How awful that would have been... probably far more traumatic for all involved.
But I keep thinking I have to go to the house, to call them, to look after them. Today, when I gave up dad's worms to their adoptive mom, I let go another vestige of him. Of course, I had no use for the worms, not being a gardener. They went to a better place.
2 comments:
Oh Robbi, I so understand how you are feeling. I, too, had the sense that I somehow could have kept my mother and father alive if I had only tried harder or did something differently. I am still occasionally haunted by the feeling that I misplaced or lost something, them, my history, life. It is a scary feeling. All I can tell is that it can take about a year to recover emotions and find places for all the new details. Meanwhile, use your writing and poetry to find understanding.
I am trying to do that. I haven't produced anything yet that is worthy or finishable.
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