“She left, she just left”, was what was said, but that was not right. I didn’t leave, I ran for my life. From then on, silenced. Well I tried a few times to speak up, but I was always very sorry to open my mouth. Why now? We are dropping like flies and if I want to say, ‘I love you,” to anyone, I guess I better have at it.
This blank page that screams memories cannot be voiced, words are too painful. No other way to put it. One wrote, “You are the person who has known me the longest”, and my heart broke for the last time I saw her. Another had someone write, “she doesn’t want it on Facebook… but wanted you to know…”. I still can’t cry.
It has always been like this – don’t cry. Tears, when they do happen, have usually gone on for months, a couple for a few years, so opening the door of shadows is done thoughtfully and carefully.
Of course it is me that is missing; everyone else is where they are supposed to be — family, community, friends, continuity. Not that my place in life now is not home and where I am supposed to be – I am home, in more ways than one in my own skin. But for those of my past life, I am the one MIA. I could not remain there, wherever the “there” might be.
When I had my tubes tied, I said I never wanted another child to be ripped from my life. The action was a suicidal behavior, a self mutilation in a weird sort of way. I will be in deep doodoo for opening my mouth again, but like I said, we are all dropping like flies, if not now, when? This was one of the times I should have ‘called a friend’ like the game show allows.
Miss Janie did what she could to get me away from harm, and had I told her what all the harm was, she might have been able to help more. But I learned to keep my mouth shut long before seventeen (of course I loved the song). There is history, a foundation of caring for a family that I could not quite claim as my own, but that brushed my life and gave me love.
Omission, omission, omission, it was the sin against hope the priest told me years later. No I am not Catholic, but my mother was and the religious counselor for my home then was Catholic – he was everything, every religion really whatever anybody needed. It was about giving up, he said; I had to give hope and get hope back.
I never saw a solution all those years ago. Looking back I might have aching regrets for so much, but I still do not see how I could have done anything differently. Silence was an action in itself. I might imagine, had I told these best girlfriends any of these things, at any of these times, there likely would have been a different outcome. But I did this myself, no accomplices.
If I had shot the son of a bitch – any one of them – it would certainly have all been different. I don’t think I was so much worried about what G-d would have done to me as I knew I did not want to go to prison. It was not that someone might not have deserved to breathe their last. But those thoughts went unshared and never acted on.
I just left – folks were right, I guess. And to lose myself I had to lose my heart’s best friends – I could not face them – they would know I was lying – they would know something was wrong. But I could not take help and I could not take comfort – life as I knew it was over – time and again – pick myself up, and move the f-k on.
One said once, it would have been better for some of those who would miss me had I died. That was brutal when I heard it, especially coming from one I loved so much and who loved me so much, but it was true. Had I become a ghost, then maybe my being gone would not have hurt others so much – less pain for all.
But my BFFs could remember the time before the pain of the adult world (for me) – and could remember when the prospects of growing up were all so wonderful. The hope was the dreams would be fulfilled and one would hope friends to remain BFFs and have the thoughts and heart’s stories shared with someone you love and trust forever.
I can vouch that kind of friendship remains with you to hold you and comfort you when you cannot cry for all of your life. That kind of friendship has held me together like glue even though we were decades and thousands of miles apart.
I am sorry I couldn’t tell it – I needed to talk – but more – my friend needed me to tell her.
I can’t make the words come out – I might cry.
Thank you for being my friend and I wish Star Trek were real – then Scotty could beam us together for a visit.
I have a friend , I will always have my friend.
Marionetta Strung-Out 