Where ever you go, there you are.
Overwhelming truth spoke in seven simple words. That’s the funny thing about words. The less spoken, the greater impact.
So, here I am. I still have moments that I can’t believe I’ve moved so far from the life I knew. I’m not going to lie and say it’s been easy. There are times it has almost broken me over the past two months. Times when homesickness has torn me apart until I couldn’t stand another day. What frustrated me the most is not understanding why it has been so hard to let go. I wanted this. And, I am happy that I am here in a job I love going to every day. My son’s returned happiness should be all I need to know in my heart that this was the right move. But I can’t shake the ache of homesickness. It probably doesn’t help that I beat myself up for not being able to shake it, either.
It didn’t make sense. At least, not until last night when I had one of those moments of clarity.
When my father passed away, I went through the motions and said goodbye. It took me another two years before I was able to mourn. We think that mourning is a natural process. That when someone dies, we mourn until we are able to move on. Sometimes, it isn’t always that simple. Sometimes, mourning is a process of change that we put off until we are ready. Mourning is more than letting go and saying goodbye. To truly mourn, one must lay before them all deeds and words passed, the good and the bad, and accept them as facts. It’s also a process of forgiving. I waited to mourn my father because we had unspoken wounds between us that we never spoke about. Things I needed to forgive him for and things for which I needed forgiveness. As I went through the depression of mourning, I was able to ease those wounds and thought I was doing good. It was going to be okay.
But the mourning didn’t go away. Frustrating? Infuriating? I wanted to be done.
It’s one thing to forgive someone else and for them to forgive you. It’s quite another thing to forgive yourself. That’s where I got stuck. One last thing hung over my head that I didn’t even want to acknowledge. It boiled down to one day, the day my father died as I sat beside him and stared with horror. I didn’t say any last words. No I love you’s. I just stared as he took his last breaths. I offered no comfort before he slipped away while the hospice worker stood at his side and directed him toward the light. She held his hand and her voice was so soothing. I froze. And stared.
It took a long time to forgive myself for that.
Since moving here, I’ve found myself in the same mourning process. Stuck. Unable to let go with no logic or rational explaination until I rambled to myself while driving home from work last night. That’s when I had that moment of clarity.
I left a few few situations without putting out the fire. No apologies were said from either party and words remain unspoken. Those unspoken words are what I’m holding onto. The same kind of words that mourners face when a loved one dies unexpectedly. Only they are still alive…just 500 miles away.
Where you go, there you are. Here I am.
Unlike when my father passed away, I’m lucky this time. I have the chance to forgive and ask for forgiveness. And when that’s done, I’m going to forgive myself. Maybe then, I can get where I want to be.
And thus, the end of “Itsy’s Ugly” is ready to be written. It’s funny how our journey’s act as mirrors, her struggles following mine. Perhaps the reason I write is to turn my internal conflicts into a symbolic fairy tale to make sense of them. I’m ready to finish this novel.
Though, I have to say that I’m not looking forward to it. The laptop cord is officially dead. I hope returning to old school pen and paper is kind to me.