I like the sunrise
I like the sunrise
'cause it brings a new day
I like the new day
it brings new hope they say
I like the sunrise
blazing in the new sky
Night-time is weary
oh, so am I
Every evening I wish upon a star
That my brand new bright tomorrow isn't very far
When that heavy blue curtain of night
Is raised up high way out of sight
I like the sunrise
so heavenly, so heavenly to see
I like the sunrise
I hope it likes poor me
Here comes the sunrise...
~ Originally performed by Duke Ellington
_________________________
I like this song. The hopefulness of it. The simplicity of it. I love every version I've heard but something about the sweetness of this artist's voice singing it puts me in a quiet, meditative space.
I am hearing this song differently now. The hope even stronger, the promise greater. Night-time is weary. But the sunrise brings a new day and, with it, new hope.
They say.
Yesterday I was driving on highway 78 toward my mother's house. As I passed Deanna's exit, which came two exits before Tounces', out of habit I picked up my cell phone and started to call her. Doing what I always did. Letting her know that we would be at Mom's and to come over and meet us. And I swear to you, as sure as I am sitting here--in that tiny split second it seemed like none of this had happened and that she'd pick up the phone and say, "Hey Sissy!"
Yeah. So that. That punched me in my chest hard. And I let it. I drove and wept as my kids watched Pokemon in the back seat. Because at that moment, I wanted nothing more than that mundane act of sitting at a kitchen table with my sister. Talking about what we liked to call "a whole bunch of nothing."
The other hard thing I've been noticing is tense. Like, I struggle with tense when it comes to my sister. The finality of past tense doesn't feel right. Saying, for example, that I'm "one of four" isn't so hard. But I can't get my mind around words like "had" and "was." This is one of those things that people who have experienced loss close to home probably nod their heads over as they read this.
So. I carefully choose those words. I dance around tense and push my mind to straddle them all. Past. Present. Future.
In response to a question about my family this weekend:
"I'm the middle girl of four. Eldest son, three daughters."
Because I still am.
While straightening my niece Olivia's hair yesterday:
"Your hair reminds me of Auntie Deanna's. Fine and soft."
Because it does.
To Isaiah before he left for school:
"Your project looks amazing. Remember what Auntie said? 'We always do more than is asked.'"
Because we do.
That takes some forethought. I admit that I'm still struggling with things like "would have" and "could have." I'm sure it sounds a little crazy but it's just me trying to process through this bumpy and sticky reality. The one that involves me passing Mountain Industrial Boulevard and not calling Deanna to meet me.
Sigh.
But, see, that's why I like the sunrise. Because this morning it brought me happy thoughts and rich memories of my funny, creative, amazing sister. And hope that I will eventually adjust to this new normal.
You know? I know that I will, too. Because the sunrise brings new hope.
They say.
***
Happy Monday.
Now playing.
Acceptance is a process. Be patient with yourself.
ReplyDeleteI will be. I promise. Thanks, Sister Moon.
DeleteThere may also come dreams - vivid, real, colorful dreams, in which you may see Deanna, hear her, touch her, and in the first moments of wakefulness after those dreams, you may feel that life is as it should be... then that feeling of being punched in the chest may take your breath away and bring tears. But it will be ok... because some day, you will drive by the exit or you will wake up from one of those dreams and there will be no tears, no feeling of having the breath punched out of you, there will be joy and appreciation, because someone you love has loved you so much, that she continues to love you through your dreams and memories.
ReplyDeleteThis is something I have been telling my kids since before they could understand what it meant: "You are 23 parts like mommy and 23 parts like daddy, but you are all 46 parts like each other."
You will always carry Deanna within you, and your sons will continue to carry parts of her within them, and their children will carry parts of her too. She will always be in the present tense, even after you get more comfortable speaking of her physical presence in the past tense. And that part, the being able to speak about her out loud without boulders crashing into your soul... that will come with time.
In the meantime, I realize life marches on, there are expectations placed upon you every day, responsibilities to be shouldered, appearances to be made and maintained, other people's grief to be consoled. Please be kind to yourself, give yourself the space and the right to cry, to scream, to be mad, to be peaceful, to be with yourself and take care of just yourself every now and then.
Hugs
Thanks, Anush.I love that 23 parts Mommy, 23 parts Daddy, 46 parts each other. :)
DeleteMy approach has been to just let myself feel how I feel. Some days that's light. Some days that heavy. I know it's okay. I am in a good place and am fully aware--eyes wide open.
I am taking care of my mom and dad and sibs and kids and nieces and nephews. But know this--I am always going to take care of me. I am and I promise not to forget me in this.
Thanks so much for being you.
Kimberly
Definitely struggling with tense... and, like you, I pick up the phone to call her... When I heard Larry Hagman died I picked up the phone to call her, because we loved watching Dallas... Yesterday I was watching this crazy show on MTV & grabbed the phone to call her & ask if she ever watched that show... instead, I sat there on the couch and talked to her. Sounds crazy, but it was helpful for me at that time. I cry every day... usually a few times... eventually, a day will come where I don't cry. Until then, I am fully honoring my feelings & letting it out when I need to...
ReplyDeleteI love you, Sissy.
~Biz
Kimberly, what an awesome sister you are! Kimberly
ReplyDeleteYou're doing well-even in the moments that may not feel like it. Just wanted to say that.
ReplyDeleteHugs,
Maria, fellow Meharrian