I sit calmly, in the dark light of the long finished setting sun, pouring its lacking light through the patio windows opposite me.
There is a pitch that is taking over my mood, slowly but surely. I can feel it creeping like oil into my veins, through my nerves and into my organs. The same way a flower filters air and water, my system filters the darkness, feeding my soul that unwanted poison of obscurity.
There is a pitch that is taking over my mood, slowly but surely. I can feel it creeping like oil into my veins, through my nerves and into my organs. The same way a flower filters air and water, my system filters the darkness, feeding my soul that unwanted poison of obscurity.
§ § § § § § § § § § § §
There have been too many mentions of a gash that was left in me 5 years ago when my mother died. She was my only artistic lever of knowledge. She knew so much and I wish I could have exploited her more. Drill her fertile brain for that rich fount of information.
We never really got along until it was late in her short life. I was an unwanted child in her eyes. A mistake. She loved me, but she had a hard time getting along with me. She wanted to spend time with me but she was always in difficulty, embarrassed almost.
She would ground me for things that were ridiculous. And then she'd take me shopping or offer to make me a milkshake and braid my hair. It was an excuse to spend time with me. She never asked to spend that time with me, she just took it.
When my parents split up due to my mother having an affair. I didn't hate her for it. But years later she tried to explain it by saying that she was lonely. The real reason was that she had fallen out of love with my father years before.
Basta.
Enough.
We never really got along until it was late in her short life. I was an unwanted child in her eyes. A mistake. She loved me, but she had a hard time getting along with me. She wanted to spend time with me but she was always in difficulty, embarrassed almost.
She would ground me for things that were ridiculous. And then she'd take me shopping or offer to make me a milkshake and braid my hair. It was an excuse to spend time with me. She never asked to spend that time with me, she just took it.
When my parents split up due to my mother having an affair. I didn't hate her for it. But years later she tried to explain it by saying that she was lonely. The real reason was that she had fallen out of love with my father years before.
Basta.
Enough.
That is a hard situation. I'm sorry to read it.
ReplyDelete~hug~
ReplyDeleteWho has been making "many mentions" about this? I can't decide if it's the feeling that angers you, or the mentioning of it as though being used against you.
ReplyDeleteGray: It's just me being sad.
ReplyDeleteMax:Thanks I needed that :)
Leonhart: No. I'm not angry. I'm just going back through memories. The mentions of her were from friends and family here who mentioned her in various situations. So I was reminded, and went back through some memories to purge.
My mother passed away in the fall several years ago so I'm thinking about her a lot these day, plus, today's post on my blog is one of her recipes.
ReplyDeleteWhile I in longer mourn her passing, those around me do and it becomes too much. She is gone, yes, but she is free from her pains, her worries, her loss. I beg for them to let her go, to hold on to only the joyful memories and not the endless sense of loss.
Remember, honor, celebrate, but do not linger at the graveside. Instead, chose a flower from atop the stone to brighten your lapel and walk away, into the sun.
I really love what Advizor has to say. My Mom has been gone nearly ten years. Although I know for certain things are as they should be, I have my moments too, where I wish I had taken more time to sit, ask questions, and listen to her words.
ReplyDelete