My friend has been really going through it this past couple of months and for the longest time, I didn’t know how to help her. I won’t really talk about what happened because even though she might not care, I’d rather keep her privacy. I gave advice and it didn’t work. I was a shoulder to cry on that they didn’t take. For everything I tried to do nothing seemed to work. I hated the idea that I might have to watch all of this come to a head and not be able to stop it. The whole thing vexed me.
I knew it wasn’t about me. I knew that what she was experiencing had absolutely nothing to do with me but I wanted to be there for her like she had been for me. Without meaning to she dug me out of a hole I was in due to my depression. It was the only reason I really got back on board with my writing and the only reason. I got back involved with the blog. So her friendship, needless to say, is very important to me.
This is the first time I’ve ever been actually able to help her in any meaningful way. And though I’ve been on call for the past couple of days (gently woken up by text notifications) I haven’t been happier. More well rested maybe but not happier. Being able to be there for a friend really makes me feel fulfilled in a way. I’m sure that says something about me and my overall psychological state, in a psychology textbook somewhere.
Needless to say, I wouldn’t want what happened to her to happen to anyone else. I just think when this is all over we’ll be closer. I hope that I can pull her out of the same hole she did me and we both can move on.
If you haven’t guessed by now my name is a pen name. Honestly, the quiet refusal to show my face should’ve been your first tip off but I digress. It is as much something given to me as something I’ve chosen. I get to sit at a keyboard and be something different from myself. It is incredibly freeing.
This Monday, I paid my respects to my last grandfather. He was a lot of things to a lot of different people. To the people of the church, he was a good Christian man. To the people he worked with, he was a hard worker. To my father, my uncles, and my aunts, he was a father and a powerful man. To me, he was Granddad, the person who had this laugh that will echo through me and make me smile whenever I think about him. A person who connected me to a large part of my heritage. I couldn’t always understand him, he had a thick accent but I’ll remember the twinkle in his eyes and the hat on his head.
I’ll admit I wasn’t as close to him as I probably should be but, I’ll miss him all the same. I hope some of his tenacity rubs off on me. I hope I can be half the man he and my father are. The Dalton part of my name is a goal and something to look forward too. I hope I can make something of it.
The hardest part of funeral’s are watching the people you thought were so much larger than life be human. Seeing them cry and feel lonely and diminished. I couldn’t breakdown with them. I hurt so much to see them and I wanted to join them be overcome but, I think something broke inside me when my brother passed. I don’t know if anything will hurt me like that again. I don’t know if that should be comforting or a sobering. Probably the worst part is seeing my father standing there like that so much pain in his eyes but, not being able to release it.
I had a dream a couple of nights ago about my brother. He died three years ago. That’s all I usually say about it. He died. I mean people ask all the time about it. How he died and I tell them and there’s a pity in their eyes.
It’s not that I like talking about him, it’s not that I like there sympathy. I guess it helps keep me grounded. Centered on the fact that it happened and that I’m okay. Maybe that’s wrong, using him like that… I mean it probably is… It’s just I need to have it be there in my life. I need to know it was a fact and that it happened. That he’s gone now and I loved him.
So back to my dream. He was dying again, this time longer this time we knew. This time I wasn’t angry. This time he was older. As old as he would have been today. He was just sitting in the car. I guess for privacy to get away from everyone. This time I had a chance to say good bye.
I told him just how much he meant to me. How sad I was going to be to see him go. I guess my mind hadn’t quite gotten their yet. I held him tighter than I’ve ever held anyone. I cried so much and when my mind had finally caught up. I told him we’d be okay. That we’d be fine. We already had been. That we’d be torn apart and forever changed, but we’d be okay. And he cried for the first time. We cried together.
I think in then end this dream was good for me I needed to get it out. It was cathartic. I don’t know if dream me got to be with him in his final moments but, I finally got to say good bye.