"Let's don't wait till the water runs dry
We might watch our whole lives pass us by
Let's don't wait till the water runs dry
We'll make the biggest mistake of our lives
Don't do it baby" ~Boys II Men
We might watch our whole lives pass us by
Let's don't wait till the water runs dry
We'll make the biggest mistake of our lives
Don't do it baby" ~Boys II Men
*Sigh* This blows. Wasn't supposed to be like this. At.All.
I could very easily sum up this blog into one line that would both express my feelings and be quick and painless: I miss her so dearly. These five words would carry a dignity in their simplicity and probably would save me an emotional headache.
But as profound as those five words are they don't quite do what I am feeling this AM any real justice. I mean 90 days ago the woman I dearly love and institution we were building came to an abrupt, painful end. Everything I hoped and prayed for was, as David Ruffin once sung, "just like a broken glass shattered all over the floor to be useful no more". Like that man in his song, (titled Pieces of a Man), we had made such beautiful mutual plans, fate moved in with an ugly hand and crushed it. Indeed as I stood on her porch trying to reason through tears, anger and confusion I knew that I had become nothing more than pieces of a man.
Thus began the Love Supreme Crisis, a series of personal, professional, and emotional challenges which brought me so close to total ruin; like Hurricane Katrina did to the City of New Orleans, this Perfect Storm has forever changed my life, way of thinking and emotional maturity. Since I've discussed the impact on the general areas of my life a few days ago, I won't cover that here. On this anniversary we're going to discuss the impact of losing (the) Queen and were do I go from here.
I've thought long and hard about the Love Supreme Crisis. I've written at least three introspective pieces in real time at various points during this crisis. I think my obsession (for lack of a better word) with healing us and ending this crisis forced me (as much a depressed mind could muster) to levels of thought, critique and intellectualism only matched by my time working with Black Studies at Olive Harvey. I was finally able to sum up what happened in a critical analysis.
But I am not going to do that again. I simply am going to talk honestly about what I realize after a hospital stay, rebuilding, prayer and supplication. In fact there is really nothing new I can add to these (if I do say so myself) wonderfully written pieces. While I am thinking with a little more clarity and the rolling emotions are past (and I'm no longer in denial about being thrown into a further depression) it would only be redundant. At your leisure go back and re-read some of them. But right now I can only say on this day the 90th day "I miss her so dearly".
As I sit at this computer typing this while slowly sipping vodka I cant help but still be sad. Now before you snarky mofo's reading this get down on me I was told by the wonderful mental health professionals tending to me while I was uh...incapacitated that its OK to mourn and be sad. This was traumatic. One doesn't have this kind of loss and shake it off. I mean she was a major component to the new future, a future imperfect full of hopes and dreams, changing people's definition of love, being that Black couple and thanking Jah along the way. Indeed, in spite of it all she helped me attain the peace I sought and truly made me a happy man.
*Sigh* This blows. Wasn't supposed to be like this. At.All.
So what makes me sad? I guess my sadness stems from the realization that neither of us really did anything "wrong" per se; there were no tradition deal breaker sins. When we were on all cylinders we made each other feel better than the best feeling. Ironically even when we missed fired there was nothing horrid about it. But somehow we reached the event horizon, a point where things fell apart and couldn't rebuild. I keep thinking this crisis could have been so avoided had I talked bluntly about my clinical depression, had I told her about my emotional challenges. I didn't. I have to live with that arrogance and that fear.
As I sit at this computer typing this while slowly sipping vodka I cant help but still be sad. Now before you snarky mofo's reading this get down on me I was told by the wonderful mental health professionals tending to me while I was uh...incapacitated that its OK to mourn and be sad. This was traumatic. One doesn't have this kind of loss and shake it off. I mean she was a major component to the new future, a future imperfect full of hopes and dreams, changing people's definition of love, being that Black couple and thanking Jah along the way. Indeed, in spite of it all she helped me attain the peace I sought and truly made me a happy man.
*Sigh* This blows. Wasn't supposed to be like this. At.All.
So what makes me sad? I guess my sadness stems from the realization that neither of us really did anything "wrong" per se; there were no tradition deal breaker sins. When we were on all cylinders we made each other feel better than the best feeling. Ironically even when we missed fired there was nothing horrid about it. But somehow we reached the event horizon, a point where things fell apart and couldn't rebuild. I keep thinking this crisis could have been so avoided had I talked bluntly about my clinical depression, had I told her about my emotional challenges. I didn't. I have to live with that arrogance and that fear.
I guess we could also heal if she stopped being so fucking anger with me. Despite her lofty ideals on the past and healing its all in her words, was in her eyes on Cinco De Mayo. I pissed her off good. I really didn't understand the magnitude of her anger/disappointment until the Queen Mother explained it to me. She said "Black, I saw you guys, I listened to you guys. You made that woman high, giddy with love. I just knew she was going to be my daughter in law. I know what you can do. You took her to the top of the mountain. But you didn't take care of yourself you got unbearable, and you dropped her. That fall hurt. In short my son she's disappointed."
I've reflected on that while I was uh...incapacitated. Disappointment. I don't think I hadn't really thought of that. Now I'm sure that is a part of it. I wish I could do it over and tell her but I cant. It's amazing that two people who were planning a wedding, laughing at the future, was having amaaazing drunk sex, while blending the kids are no longer speaking, outside of short communiques. It's amazing two people who used to be unable to wait to hug each other wouldn't even hug if we bumped into each other.
*Sigh* This blows. Wasn't supposed to be like this. At.All.
But today this is the reality and today I miss her so dearly.
My mind drifts back to our initial meeting were Jehovah only knows what I said in my drunken stupor. I vaguely remember us talking about Jehovah, Black Studies, Vodka, Pussy eating and a bunch of stuff. I remember offering to go get our frat brother who is a reverend to marry her on the spot. LOL. For the longest time I thought that was the vodka, but I realized that I was serious. Something in that angel's eyes relaxed me. Now it drifts to our many chats...emails...debates about what Black Love is and should be.
My mind drifts to our first kiss. It drifts to that Sunday afternoon in October when we held each other for what seems like an eternity. It's now jumping to that late night in November when she came by after a party to hug me...and got out of the truck and said in the most loving voice as she kissed me "I love you". I remember being so scared the first time I cooked for her I burnt the food, but I also remember the last meal I fixed when I slammed that Catfish and Spaghetti. I remember her and CJ's banter. I remember loving my Black timbos and I remember her excitement when she officially became the flyest Zeta in the game rockin my chain. I remember standing on the porch wanting to hug and beg, and I remember her face. I remember Valentine's day and the gifts. These memories are a blessing and yet that can weigh one down. Indeed neither of us did any wrong, we could have done things differently of course but there was no sin here. It seems we were unjustly done in by triple D's: Depression, Disappointment and Defiance. These things can kill Black Love.
*Sigh* This blows. Wasn't supposed to be like this. At.All.
I miss her so dearly.
I was asked by a snarky mofo reader what would be different if we could hook back up. A lot. I would make sure my mental health is in order. I wouldn't spend time fighting with blog vandals. I wouldn't worry so much about her co parent. We WOULD go to the Hall. We would take it slow.
We would heal.
But this kind of wishful thinking isn't the healthiest, the fact is she is gone right now and I have to deal with that reality. I have to accept that I will may never get that review with all the evidence presented; a chance to get my conviction overturned and to reclaim my throne. To quote the Apostle Paul this is my thorn in the flesh, I have entreated Jah to help and he isn't either answering or basically telling me his undeserved kindness is enough. I understand I do. But still Jah...I wonder if we're both making this hard. I wonder if lil Devin's suggestion was correct? I remember him saying "Dad, why don't you say you're sorry. You make me and Centrell say you're sorry. Or buy some candy? Or take her out?". Or as my snarky preteen said "If you guys loved each other so much then why don't you just go for a long walk." Jesus was right. Children can sum up the truths much better than we stubborn complicated adults.
*Sigh* This blows. Wasn't supposed to be like this. At.All.
I miss her so dearly.
On Monday I start a new job as career counselor and I have to make sure my game face is on. I cant serve the underprivileged if I am in a funk. So I guess this weekend while the rest of you snarky mofo's are eating barbecue and acting like yall got your Independence on this day too (Obama's election not withstanding), I'll be trying to finish re centering myself, polish up those timbos and heal. I'll even smile once and a while and reflect on the lessons learned and meanings made during this perfect storm. Then Monday, I start to rebuild. Still though..it's hard.
*Sigh* This blows. Wasn't supposed to be like this. At.All.
I miss YOU so deeply!
Straight, No Chaser
TLT
07-04-2009
3:30am
No comments:
Post a Comment