Lost

I would be lying if I said I looked into her eyes as I talked. I tried but I couldn't quite do it. Instead my gaze rested just above, maybe in line with her eyebrows, just an illusion of eye contact.

"What happened?" she asked again and still I couldn't tell her. There were a lot of things I couldn't do that day. Eye contact and telling the truth were right up there.

I knew there would be sadness in her eyes if I dared to look. Maybe not just sadness, maybe devastation, I couldn't face that look, that hurt, the magnitude of it.

I dropped my gaze completely and gave up the pretense. “What did happen?” I asked myself.

I am not sure I can even unravel when it began or how we got here.

Maybe if I work backwards.

I am in my room right now. The full length mirror is a feature of the wardrobe. I felt so grown up when I first saw it, part of my room, in my house, my own house. That mirror has shadows of my life here. I could picture my babies gurgling to their images and leaving tiny handprints where they used it to support themselves. I could picture getting ready for special events and having the chance to see myself and be okay with what I saw. As I looked at her, not directly, never directly I had a hard time believing I would ever be okay with what I saw again.

“Is this the first time I have known she is really gone and that maybe I can’t find her, maybe nobody can find her?” “Can I say that? Will it make it real somehow? Can I meet her eyes and say that out loud?”

It is certainly not the first time that I thought I had lost her.…perhaps that is what happened? A series of micro losses. A little bit lost after the fire, a little bit lost after the earthquake, a little bit lost after the mosque attacks, a little bit lost after the car crash, a bit more after her mum died. She came back physically but each time there was a part of her that was gone. Maybe she slipped away bit by bit without me really noticing until today when I woke up and realised she was no longer here at all….she was gone, really gone. I dared to glance up but those eyes were still boring into my soul, judging me, blaming me…pleading with me to fix this, to make it all a dream. Shame directed my eyes to dart away once more.

Even though I could not make eye contact, the thoughts were coming through loud and clear. “You should have done more!” “You should have seen this coming!” “Why didn’t you stop this?” “Why didn’t you look out for her?” “You had one job, just one job…keep her safe and you failed.”

Each thought was a physical assault, I felt them in my core. “You could at least try to find her instead of standing here, frozen, not able to fully admit to the fact she is gone.”

I wondered where I would look, where she had gone, and would she come back with me if I found her?  When did I last see her? I guess the real truth is I haven’t seen all of her for a long time. I have seen less and less of her as time went by, as event after event rocked her, robbed her, broke her, erased her. I know she was here after her mum died. She was lost for a while in the vortex of grief but she was still here. That was 18 months ago. I can’t remember if she was here for Xmas of that year, how bad is that? Was she there? I don’t remember that Xmas at all. Here we are rounding the corner to another Xmas, one that I know she won’t be at (I am still doubting, still not believing, there is a part of me who still thinks she will be found and all will be well). Her birthday was in March. I know she was partially here for that. I remember she put on a brave face for it but her soul was gone. Why can’t I remember? Is it because so much has happened? So much has changed?

“Why won’t you look at me?” I was jolted out of my thought spiral, so much so, I almost looked…not yet I told myself, I can’t look yet. 

“Why won’t I look?” Is it because I fear judgement? Is it because I fear seeing the pain as well as feeling it? Is it because I fear seeing the disappointment? Is it simply because I don’t want to see? I wonder where I was when courage was being handed out as a human quality? Perhaps I was lining up for avoidance and fear instead, thinking they would be easier qualities to navigate my life with.

“Look at me!” she was getting more demanding, her despair, her fear, her sadness had joined forces and evolved to anger. Soon, I wouldn’t have a choice. I tried to slip back into my thoughts, they were pointless, they led nowhere but they helped me avoid looking at her for just a bit longer. The anger became rage, “Look at me!” I started to cry, heat rose through my body and I began to shake. I held my breath and I looked. I looked straight into her eyes. Eyes that swam in a lake of tears, reddened, with emotions sparking from them. I looked at her and I heard my own voice in my ears, “Where are you?” “Where did you go?” “Why did you slip away from me?”

I looked at my reflection, the shattered parts of me, the mosaic of who I once was. “Where are you?” I asked again.

“I don’t know,” I said sadly…”I am lost.”