Friday, September 3, 2010

Through Darkness, Through Time...

Sometimes I'm afraid I'm doing everything wrong.

I was thinking tonight about how there's this hole in my heart where Karl was. Not that he's not in there, because, of course, he is, but there's a hole, too. A lot of you know what I'm talking about. Some of you don't. If not, know that you're lucky, and count yourself blessed.

So the hole, it's been there two years now, and it hasn't changed. I thought it got bigger and smaller, and hoped that in time it would shrink to a size that was almost unnoticeable, except maybe when it was poked. Whether it would shrink, or heal, or be somehow filled, I didn't know, but I thought it would change.

Two years. Still there. Same hole.

As I look back, I realize that it's not actually the hole, but my heart that changes. Some days it's bigger, making the hole less obvious in relation. Sometimes it's smaller, and the hole's almost the whole of it. Sometimes it's made of stronger stuff, and the walls don't cave in. Sometimes it's weak and everything crumbles endlessly, raw and bleeding...

I try to grow. I try to improve my fortitude, my emotional composition. I try to visualize and actualize a better me with a bigger, stronger heart. I try to confidently march forward, hole be damned, knowing that even when it's not ok, it will be...

But I still have days when I think I'm doing it all wrong. Days when I'm failing. Days when I'm shrinking. Days when I wonder if I have a thread left to hold on to.

There's something to be said for the link between creativity and the abyss - looking down into the darkness is daunting, but inspiring too.

I was lying in Elliot's bed waiting for him to fall asleep, and I was missing Karl, thinking of all the moments he's missed. I felt a failing in that my memory is so unreliable, I couldn't pull to the front any one moment with Karl, Elliot, and I together. I wanted so much to slip back in time to a happy instant, but they were elusive, slippery vapors I couldn't grasp.

Instead, suddenly I was high above the banks of the Mississippi with Karl and we'd met a young boy. Date night, August 2008. Nathanial, 4 years old, was holding Karl's hand, chatting, and walking back to the train tracks to get more rocks to throw down to the water. I know Karl was feeling Elliot's hand in his, hearing Elliot's voice from this little stranger's mouth.

Instead of bringing me back in time, my memories brought Karl forward.

Ajax, our black cat, sleeping beside the bed, began to snore contentedly.

No comments: