I'll Be With You Soon

If it were up to me, you’d be here with me now. 

Those were the last words I heard from her. Those were the last sounds that came out of her mouth that found their way into my mind after entering my ears. Now they stay there echoing. Bouncing off the walls in there as if it was a dark, desolate cave. A little whisper that gets louder with every passing moment, becoming a steady droning hum that drowns out everything else and leaving room for nothing at all. By this stage, that is exactly how I feel. Empty and dark like a desolate cave, with nothing at all. My thoughts, my dreams, my emotions . . . all devoid of any form of rhyme or reason. That echoing effect almost makes me laugh . . . nothing at all nothing at all nothing at all . . . It hurts to smile cause it’s SOMETHING. And NOTHING is the natural state of my affairs right now. It’s kind of funny.

Speaking of funny, isn’t it funny how everything seems so simple when you look back on it? How we wish that we could take things back. Go back in time. Do things differently this time around. Comprehensive vision always being a matter of 20/20 in retrospect is something that I’ve heard or read or been told some time before. Or at least something like that. I don’t know. Perhaps it’s just yet one more thing that I seem to get wrong. It seems like I have the Midas touch, but for nothing that anyone in their right mind would want, though. No matter how hard I tell myself to handle things with the white glove approach, I regretfully drop the ball.

Now . . . regret is a hell of a thing. It’s the worst type of cancer there is. I mean sure . . . there’s things like real cancer that will really kill you, but regret will kill you from the inside little by little and still leave you alive. You become a husk of yourself just being there. Existing rather than living. Just going through the motions with the lights on, but with no one at the wheel directing things. Pondering on when it’s going to be over with every second your mind is functioning. It’s the kind of thing that won’t let you be . . . well . .. you name it. Anything. Something. Comfort in your skin? Forget about it. You got dreams and hopes? Kiss those things goodbye. Flying high and feeling fine gets replaced by a ball and chain attached to a sack of bricks paired with pins and needles just under your skin pointing inwards. Try relaxing and kicking your feet up with that. 

If it were up to me, you’d be here with me now. PLEASE

Please . . . I’m sure that’s the part that was going through her mind that she decided to keep to herself. She was always superhuman to me in that regard. No matter what, she was a solid rock. In the eyes of danger, she showed no fear. In the face of adversity, she never dropped her gaze. When the odds were overwhelming, she always stood her ground and damn it . . . she always won. She never showed an ounce of weakness or a sliver of cowardice. She had enough to go around to even imbue ME when I needed some. ME. The one who could do it all. The one that you couldn't tell nothing to because I knew everything. The one that wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything and was quick to anger and allowed it to manifest itself into something that could be felt by you or anyone else in the path of my stupidly blinded rage.

I didn’t need anything . . . and I thought she didn’t either. She was so strong. So smart. So strong willed and determined. We were so alike in that regard, but such polar opposites when it came to other things. The things that truly make us strong. She would forego, so that I could be. She would hide tears and mask pain so that I wouldn’t see her like that, giving me an example. Now I know that all my strength, all my bravado, all my being came from her. Now I realize just how strong she was. Her cup overflowed with so much strength, wisdom, love, patience, understanding, EVERYTHING . . . so much so that she had enough for herself and still, she was able to fill mine. At times, my cup would spill and leak. But behold . . . there she was eagerly willing to fill mine back up.

Oh how she did the impossible to show me that she was strong. Never let them see you cry, right? She did her best to hide the tears and to ignore the pain. When we are young and ignorant to the ways of the world, our innocence fills in the gaps and makes everything nice. All imperfections are smoothed out. All shortcomings are novelties. Everything is just straight shits and giggles. But as we age and get older, cynicism begins to creep around to settle in and makes itself at home. Unfulfilled expectations that lead to disillusionment, which release feelings of disappointment and betrayal . . . that’s what Google just told me. I say it’s just a part of growing up. The world of pure imagination (music makers and the dreamers of dreams) gives way to the land of the real (paying bills and making concessions). You see those imperfections; they stand out like a smeared booger on a clean shirt. Shortcomings now are a problem and you find that shits stink and giggles are a discontinued cookie.

If it were up to me, you’d be here with me now. PLEASE. I love you.

In my cynicism, she shared with me her pain. In my cynicism, she reached out to me for help. Her cup was cracked and needed a little bit of the abundance she had given me throughout the years. In my cynicism, I saw that as a weakness. I failed her.

I know my mother did more than the best she could for me. I have no idea how, but she even did the things she wasn’t able to do. She was a warrior. A miracle maker. All she wanted was for me to listen to her, and not go out that night. 

All I had to do was put my pride aside just that one time and just go home with her. All I had to do was be there at her side and deny myself just that one time. Just like she had denied herself for me so many numerous times before. All I had to do was stand up to myself and be a man. 

But momma . . . I’m home now. I wish I could hold your hand and tell you back that I love you. I wish I could hug you again and tell you that I’m sorry. I wish you didn’t have to die alone and so worried about me. I’m starting to get a little woozy and light headed here, but it’s okay. My thoughts are getting a little less coherent, but I don’t mind. I love you too, and I’ll be with you soon.