Someone asked me today about the tattoo on my left wrist.
I so happened to be working in a school office today instead of hiding underneath my covers hiding from the ultimate D-day of all days of the year.
"What does that symbol mean?"
"It is a small "t" that represents my son who happened to 'officially' die seven years ago today."
"I'm sure that was a sensitive part of your body and it probably really hurt when you got it."
"It didn't hurt enough. The digging into my skin didn't feel anything close to the death of my son. I wish the process had hurt more."
"I get it. Death and grieving is never-ending. It doesn't fade. I've lost family members and I don't feel a day goes by that I don't miss them."
Yeah, for some reason, this year seems more palpable than ever. The anguish has been so ever present for weeks now. I am not quite sure I can go through feeling this feeling another seven years. I count down the days until I can just get past this day of the year. Somehow remain calm and normal when I have not felt anything quite close to this odd supposed feeling one is supposed to feel on a daily basis in years.
Losing a loved one is gut wrenching. It takes a part of one's soul away. One layer at a time. It seems at times, there isn't any soul left to lose or you yourself will be left. lost. In living, you have to give love to all and you wonder how you can show this emotion effectively when you are still trying to cognitively stitch up that gaping wound. Disintegrating tissue stitched and patched up to look and feel whole on the outside for everyone else to feel better about themselves. and you. The stitches turn themselves into a odd and creepy puppet at times. Playing for the audience and the world. Mimicking what you think you should look like on the outside. Even when you feel nothing like the façade you try to portray.
Like the dreams I vividly dream nightly of being something of a fantasy where I am nothing like myself..... I do wonder why I feel I need to act the same in daylight and in reality like I do in my nocturne self.
I guess we all do to an extent.
Some are better actors than others.
I however, can only keep up the stage presence for very limited short period of time. Then I go to the dressing room and break down due to a lack luster performance. A short time later, I slap another layer of stage make up and go out there and perform for the second and third act.
Hoping I start to feel and embody the character I am trying to portray. Until I see another player reminding me of a pivotal character in the play or another stupid holiday/scene creeps up when I didn't study the script closely enough.
I then have to look at my understudy to remind me that this thing I am doing is just acting in a play. We are just playing at something we can not begin to comprehend. Mainly because the writer can never truly convey where we all are supposed to fall in this act.
Mainly because I don't think he knows for sure himself.