Thursday, June 19, 2008

Full moons and Ravioli

The Summer moon was incredible. Noah and I went for a long, long walk up to the dog park then up the first hill to watch the moon rise.

It was so big and orange and the sky was dark and full of stars. I felt like someone had picked me up and dropped me someplace new, everything looked different from up there, I wanted to jump into the sky and swim to you.

Noah and finally walked back home at almost ten in the evening. He was pretty happy to have had an adventure with me. I was pretty happy to be holding his hand under that big moon. I wanted more than anything for you to be with us. We would have stopped and had a late desert at the Skillet and called Dad to come and pick us up so we wouldn't have to walk home with bellies full of sugar.

It is so hot here now, not sure you would like it. If you were here I would buy a hammock and put it under the apricot tree. I would buy a bunch of pillows and a little table to set a pitcher of ice tea and a pile of books on.

Noah has the summer blues already, he thought that we would be having parties and camping every night. Instead we swim, make silly puppets and run errands. There will be parties and camping and even a boat trip but I am not sure how that is going to happen.

I feel so sad and heavy thinking about doing them without you.

I was talking to my mother the other day and she was off in her own reality as usual and she said some pretty stupid things, not a surprise, I wasn't even angry. I guess the thing that bothers me most is that people who have not lost a child do not understand that when you do you family is broken, it is always missing someone. It is hard to find a new normal when you feel so incomplete and sad.

Dad is doing OK. He has this thing in him that protects him from the hardest parts of life. It is a survival mechanism he was born with that has served him well. Dad lost two parents, a brother two nephews and a niece and his grandmother and various other relatives. His family was not built for longevity.

He also had a hard life, he could have easily absorbed that and not become the person he is now but he was able to move past it and move forward. He does not hold carry anger and sadness very long. He lives in the moment.

It makes me so angry. I am the opposite, I hold onto everything, I am an emotional pack-rat.
I keep journals, write in blogs, and have a secret hiding place for stories in my heart. I had a pretty difficult life myself and instead of letting it all go I pile it high and used it as a place to see the rest of my life from.

I have some incredible memories, things that might seem silly to anyone else but mean everything to me. Everyone collects something, I collect stories.

I am thinking of the night Noah and I went out to the hot tub at the beginning of winter and the tree's were bare. The dawn sky was this eerie purple and everything felt wet and foreign. It was unusually quiet and we both just sat there in that surreal moment knowing we would never forget it, and we haven't.

I remember the day you made ravioli from scratch. You were so careful to do everything so perfectly. You were wearing that white chef's coat Matt and Ann gave you and your hair was pulled back in a pony tail. You were so damn happy that day. The sun was setting and the kitchen was tinted with that warm orangey-pink glow. You were so skinny, you had finished treatment, the Decadron was gone and we thought we were finished with all the tumor stuff.

You told me that week that you were finally happy with your body and your life. That was the year you wrote to Cornell about the food science program.

You won a cooking competition for those ravioli and everyone was so proud of you. When you left I had to cash your prize money. I have it hidden and I am waiting for you to tell me what to do with it.

I am not like Dad. I can not just set down the heavy parts of life and keep walking. Instead I am a rickshaw driver and they are all passengers on my bike. Some days I stop and talk with the best and some days the most awful need to talk too.

There must be a reason for this.

I am trying to understand it so I don't resent dad too much. He feels that my being such an emotional being is a weakness and maybe he is right.

There will never be a time when I will let any of you go. I am keeping it all. That does not mean that I can not or will not have a life or that I want to trap any of you here in this world it just means that I choose to be the keeper of those memories. I will build a mental treasure box for them.

On nights like last night when the moon is that big and my soul is wide open I will find a quiet place to explore all those treasures in hopes that I will find you there again and again.


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