This is to you, Ma . . .
I know . . .
. . . it’s been a while.
it’s been even longer since we walked or talked
or had the chance to sit and eat.
Mom.
No one knows what it’s like.
Or no, I assume that no one could know what it was like for me, or for you
But we do.
We know of course because we both lived through what we lived through.
And such is life, in another lifetime.
And though he changed the scenery and Act 1 became Act 2 and so on, time will always be the undefeated winner because time waits for no one . . .
“. . . it passes you by.”
By the way . . .
I drove past the old house the other day. I saw the lights on in my old bedroom. I couldn’t help but to think about the last time I was there and how I turned off the light in my bedroom for the last time.
Someone was with me too. He was an old friend who is unworthy of mention. And I wish he wasn’t there to be honest. I wish I stayed and walked around the house one last time.
But I didn’t.
it was suggested that I leave.
So, I left.
But does anyone ever really leave?
Do we really let go of things, like our childhood memories? Or do we ever forget the playgrounds or the places where we saw fireworks for the first time?
I remember when I lost my childhood. And I remember why.
I remember what happened and I remember the loss of truth or the loss of innocence. Or even more, I remember how you saw this too and wished there was a way that you could bring it all back to me.
It’s too bad that we can’t bubble-wrap the world for total and mutual safety.
And it’s a sad thing that we cannot baby-proof the corners or soften the sharp edges of truth. And do you know what else?
It’s another hard fact that life life comes with painful moments, sad times, but if we let the sun rise and fall and if we learn enough to enjoy the moonlight and the stars above, we tend to find that the world really is a beautiful and stunning place.
Enjoy the wonder.
Enjoy the sunrise and the sunsets.
Let yourself find something beautiful to see, every day.
Steer clear of the ugly and the excess of undesirable things that tend to lie and make us believe that the world is cold or that we are unworthy.
I know you tried to teach me.
And it’s not that you weren’t a good teacher.
More than anything, the problem was I had to find a way to learn and retain information.
Also, I needed to mature enough to understand what I was being taught.
I needed to open my closed mind and open my eyes to what I had already overlooked or pretended that I could not see.
I hope this makes sense.
I’m sure it does.
Besides, wherever you are now is a much different place that I could ever plan to comprehend.
You see through different eyes now.
And I say this all the time. The eyes in Heaven never blink.
Not once. The eyes in Heaven are no longer of the flesh.
And that which is of the flesh is of the flesh
That which is of the spirit is of the spirit.
This means your eyes see things that mine cannot see.
Your questions have all been answered, or so I believe.
Mine are still unravelling but one day; and hopefully not soon, I will be in the afterlife as well and all of my riddles will eventually be solved.
Or, so I hope.
I still have feelings when I drive through the old town.
it’s funny to see how the stores have changed and the landscapes are different now.
It’s been decades since I slept in the house on Merrick Avenue.
I remember my room.
I remember that last time in the house because I was the last one to go.
A part of me still lives there too.
A part of me still connects with the old hiding places in my bedroom.
A part of me remembers and clings to the recollections of how I sat in that room, and I grew, and I went through changes.
I look at the place where I sat when I used to climb onto the roof at night.
I was young there.
I was a baby there too.
I was a child and in some ways, that child became a young man despite his best efforts.
And I swear; I swear with all that I have Mom . . .
I know how much of this was unfair.
I know how hard my life was.
I know how hard it is for a parent to see their child struggle or nearly die, or take too much for granted. I know this now because of course, children do not know that the future happens much faster than they believe.
I have had to go back in some regards and retrace my steps to find what I have lost. However, the old house is someone else’s now and my previous love belongs to someone else as well.
And so,
I have to adjust to the best of my ability.
I have dreams about the old house.
I come in the front door.
All is bright as if it the dream occurs on a summer’s day, to which I assume the day is midway through and the sun is at its highest point.
Times like these were usually spent in the backyard.
And I look.
But no one’s there.
I go back in side.
I tour the house.
I walk through
but no one’s around.
It somehow seems as if I had just missed everyone or as if I had arrived too late and if I had been there sooner, I might have been more comfortable in life or maybe I’d have felt as if I’d have “been there” and not missed out.
maybe –
Maybe this is something that could be the youngest child syndrome because it always seemed as if so much life happened before my time, —and when my time came, so much was already gone.
I used to look at our family albums, all from the generation before me.
I always wondered what it would be like to be there, back then, or to see my Father at a younger age.
My Father . . .
Also known to me as Pop or as often regard him in my written journals, “The Old Man.”
He was my first hero . . .
And though he danced, he used to smile; I saw him after later which was a new stage in his life—and he was tired
He was tired from the battles of a life that he had before ours and exhausted from the hours he worked, unhappy with the way life happens, but though he frowned, I know he tried.
Age itself is generous because time allows us the journey to explore the world. However, time is not always a generous thing. In its exchange, time takes away friends, life, loved ones and shows is the downward decline of how our body can no longer keep up the pace of our youthful speed.
Pop aged,
You aged.
I aged too
However, life has a way of confusing us.
Moms are not supposed to get sick or grow old.
It has been a while since I sat down with you and felt your healing powers.
And I know what I’ve done, Mom.
I know where I’ve been.
I know all about the things that I have taken for granted.
and sure . . .
. . . I know that it is crazy to say this but I am older now.
I’ve come a long, long way since the time I was removed from public school.
It’s been even longer since my days when I stuttered in the classroom or had bullies determine my happiness.
And some might call me old.
I never thought that I would have to plan my retirement.
But I am.
I never thought that I would have to think about the so-called golden parachute so that I can make a soft landing or at minimum, —I can drift in the breeze and enjoy the view of this world we live in.
And I know what you used to tell me.
I know how you used to tell me, “Don’t sweat the small stuff.” But I never listened and I always thought that I knew better.
I miss you, Mom.
I do.
I know that life got in the way of my plans. And I know that my plans have changed.
There are so many things that I wish you were around to see and there are people in my life that I wish you were here to meet.
I wish it was like it was back when I was young and no matter how hard my life seemed, nothing was ever so bad that you couldn’t fix it with your mashed potatoes and fried chicken cutlets with gravy.
This was better than any antidepressant.
I can attest to this for sure.
I miss your hot cocoa or your cinnamon toast.
No one could make iced tea like you did.
And I don’t know why –
Everyone uses the same ingredients but yours always tasted better.
I’m sorry that it’s been so long since my last letter, Mom.
But I know you understand.
Life happens fast.
I’ve aged faster than I thought and you have been gone for more than a decade now.
I could ask where all the time has gone but the answer is that time is all behind me now.
It’s been a while since I’ve had a sign from you. And maybe I don’t deserve one.
Maybe you are too far for this to reach you
or maybe you’re too busy
But a sign that you are proud of me and that you are watching would be nice. Tell Pop that I’m okay.
Just busy.
But I’m okay,
I promise.
The Written Addiction 