Pages

Monday, January 9, 2023

Do I Go?

Queen T is napping.  Big Cuter and TBG are watching football.  It's sunny and still outside, a little bit warmer than it was 12 years ago when the bullets began to fly.

Friends reached out via text; they know I avoid the phone and, really, there's nothing left to be said.  I am here.  They are glad.  So am I.

Little Cuter texted that we should video call whenever, so we did.  It took me a few minutes to realize that her how are you doing today meant more than it would have on any other Sunday.  

TBG hugged me tightly at 10:10am; I enjoyed the closeness but couldn't share his tears.  It's odd, but I'm not sad anymore.

I ache for the friendship CTG and I would have had; I would like a 20-something in my life right now.  But that's what it is, an ache. I've run out of tears, of that deep, penetrating, unrelenting sorrow that I took to bed every night.  

I wonder how much of this is the passage of time and how much of it is my new hip.  Nothing hurts when I stand up or sit down or climb into bed.  I don't think about which leg should go first, about which side will be less uncomfortable, about which shoes to wear to cushion every step.  I don't groan when I change position.  I don't look for the closest parking space and  I return my grocery cart to the rack, no matter how far it is from my car. 

I smile whenever I do something that used to hurt, to be out of reach, to take more energy than I could muster.  All of those were reminders of the bullets that changed my life. Without their constant encouragement, I am not pulled back to the trauma.

Instead, I've reclaimed the outdoors.  I lift heavy boxes.  I work in the garden for hours at a time.

So, when I received an email that the Jan 8th Memorial would be unlocked on just this Sunday so that we, the survivors, could visit without any hoopla, I wondered if I should go.  I've never seen it.  I've never felt the need.  But there's no formal ceremony in Tucson today, no bell ringing or park dedicating.  I have the sense that I should commemorate the event..... and shoulds often get me more than I expect.

I put on my walking clothes - tights and padded socks and good sneakers below hand-me-down, oversized shirts from my boys.  I'll get in the car and see where I end up.  The boys' clothes will hug me if I find myself parking downtown.

In any event, I will definitely do some walking.  The shooter has taken enough of my life.



6 comments:

  1. You are blessed with strength and prupose!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Sending a hug from The Cheeses. Aged Parm is with CTG and they are having fun.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I'm happy for you that the emotional pain has gone away with the physical pain. The memories are hard enough.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, but most of them are now bittersweet, rather than heartbreaking.
      a/b

      Delete

Talk back to me! Word Verification is gone!