~Tuesday, September 11, 2007

On the Way Home

I could write about what exactly was on that spreadsheet, but I'm not exactly in a narrative writing mood. I think you understand.

Two funerals in two states in two different regions and I'm back at work. Tired. Last night I was driving home on I-20 when two lanes merged into one, and my speed slowed to zero and I began to cry. I was easily three hours from home and I didn't want to be there anymore. I wanted to be home, but I had to rely on myself and three more hours just seemed too damn long.

The people of my past, my childhood, are passing away. I look around me and see my brothers moving on with their own families to support them through these past couple of months (there have been deaths all summer long). They are creating new memories with their new families and I guess this is what they mean by circle of life. The people who lovingly raised us are dying, leaving them in turn to raise their own children and love their own wives and pay their own mortgages.

I can't help but feel a little stuck.

I don't have a family of my own to support me. I was alone in the car, alone by the coffin, and sleeping on the couch because the couples get the beds. I haven't yet created my own family; I wasn't moving on in the circle.

"You have me," offered Scott. His voice was far away as I sat out on the front porch of our family farm. He commented on hearing birds on my end of the line and it hit me that he and I don't get those sounds in the city. The other day I watched a squirrel through my office window for about ten minutes while trying to figure out why I was so fascinated with the creature. It was because I hadn't even seen one in months. All of a sudden, the city seemed foreign and strange with its orange glow at night, never really getting dark. It's a feature that I previously found comforting.

"I know," I sighed, trying to not hurt his feelings,"It's just not the same. Theirs is more... official with their spouses and houses. I mean, I had to come out here and do this alone."

"One day we'll have our spouses and houses too." He paused, "And by spouses, I mean you and me."

I forced a smile that I prayed he could somehow hear. But the sentiment didn't make me feel any less unstuck and out of place. To me, it sounded like an empty promise: one I've heard too many times before to count on. As much as I'm sure he was willing, I was the only one who could press through the additional three hours home. I was more than halfway, but I wasn't there yet. And not being where I should be--where I wanted to be--is jarring.


Tilly said...

I am so there--the in-between. I desperately want to be content and find peace with where I am at this moment, yet I can't help but covet that next step, that feeling of complete security. But I guess that's never certain anyway.

Again, I'm so sorry for your losses. I hope that you are able to find comfort and continued strength.

Sarah said...

I think that's what I have to remember. That the other phases seem so great, but it isn't guaranteed security.

Megan said...

I know exactly what you mean, about the empty promises. Before the Argentinian, I'd heard from other guys how they wanted to marry me. It makes you numb to the meaning behind those words. Even now, when we're engaged, I still worry that it's all just going to fall apart and I'll be alone again.

Regarding your losses, I hope you are doing well, and are able to make it through the sadness.

Peach said...

hey you, sounds like Scott was there for you in spirit... I reckon with a little time he will always be there for you in person too...

Kennethwongsf said...

Don't lose heart. You know where you want to end up--that's more than what I can say about some of the people I know. Figuratively speaking, you are on the home stretch now.

Anonymous said...

I'm glad you're back. If you need anything please please don't hesitate to call.

I know your feelings. I've been there. Living a 4-hour plane ride away from home and looking at at minimum 2 trips back in the next 2 months I understand oh too well.

Somedays it's overwhelming to be too far away, to be too single, to be too independent. And then out of no where it's so relieving to be all those things as well.

You've been at the forefront of my thoughts all week. I hope you're doing ok. I'll be in touch.

treacle said...

A big fat hug Sarah. I'm sorry for the pain and the grief and I hope that with Scott's help things will seem better, gradually, every day. Take care x

Drama Queen said...

We all get days like that. The in between stage. But its better to be staring into the future than looking back at the past. . .!

Paige Jennifer said...

You'll get there. And when you do, you'll be better off for all you're going through en route.

Chin up, girly. Chin up.

dont eat the token said...

*deep breath*

I'm glad you had a hug waiting for you when you got home.


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