Last moments. Last thoughts...
The last day/time I was healthy.
The last time I played softball.
The last time I attended class in college.
The last night I slept in a dorm room with my best friends.
The last time I worked in the Training Room.
The last time I saw my hitting coach.
The last road trip I went on.
The last time I left Spokane or Portland.
The last time I saw my friends.
The last time my best friends were actually my best friends.
The last time I drove a car.
The last time I sat at a vista at 6,000 feet with just me and God.
The last date I went on with a guy.
The last time I slept in my own room.
The last time I ate out in a restaurant.
The last time I felt good at something, confident in my abilities.
The last time I could do anything on my own.
The last time I went to the movies.
The last time I lived on my "own".
The last time I felt independent.
The last time I felt free.
The last time I was pain free.
The last time I got a good night's sleep.
The last time I watched the sunrise.
The last time I watched the sunset.
The last time I stayed out past 5:30 pm.
The last episodes of all my favorite tv shows.
Last moments, experiences, thoughts...when you're healthy you don't think about them. When all is going well or even ok you don't think about them...I, however, am haunted by them, ceaselessly. They never leave me alone. Any one of them, they always find their way back to me, to my soul, to causing it to break, again. Especially tonight.
I have one episode of Chuck left. One of my favorite tv shows, and I am mourning it's ending, again. TV, it just--I know most people don't get it, but, it just...it just is so much better than life. At least it feels that way, to me.
It's been said by one of my favorite geniuses ever, Joss Whedon, that it's the greatest form of storytelling. If done correctly, which he knows how to do, I know he is right. Because their stories are being lived without all the stalling, while all I can/do is watch them live the stories I wish I were.
It's sad that TV is often such a better story than my life. But that at least makes sense of why I love getting lost in it, even if it leads to an emotional mess here and again: it tells stories how they were supposed to be written--how they were supposed to be lived. With a lot of exceptions of course. There really is a lot of crap on TV, but then again, every once in a while, maybe once a season, a show comes along that leaves you believing again, in life, in other people, in fighting for what's real and right and true, in love, in hope despite the amount of conflict or tragedy, and in stories--in God's story for me, for you, for all of us...
It's just at this time of night, when I'm reminded of what any kind of loss feels like, even the loss of a great tv show I've already seen and lost, which is often trivial to some, it sucks, and it becomes a whirlwind of all the pain I've already felt and will continue to feel until their is nothing left to lose. No lasts except for that last breath, that last goodbye to the ones and things and places you love...
Ever since Stills Disease, I feel like my sense of loss has been heightened, to a level that at times feels unbearable. And it often just takes something, as little to some, or most, like a tv show, to push me past my limits, to bring back the scars of loss and lasts I've been trying to heal for the last almost nine years. That dark gaping abyss inside begins to scream, begins to cry, begins to be too heavy in my chest, and I break, break down, break in, break open...
Loss....
Lasts....
How much more are there really going to be?
You won't even believe me when I tell you how much I miss grocery shopping, sitting in traffic, having a long day at work, having to study for a crazy scary final exam, having to make dinner, running errands, getting up early and having a routine, doing homework, going to class, getting dressed for a real normal day, doing chores, going on walks to stay fit, being social, going to church...
All the little things everyone thinks are big, troublesome, bothersome--all the things everyone complains about, I miss.
In college I came up with, out of necessity of being surrounded by young adults who complained about everything, especially the trivial things they didn't yet know were trivial, a phrase that has stuck with me, that more or less is always true, and it always finds it's way back to me at sad moments like this, when people think I'm crazy for missing the mundane exhausting stuff, while I think you're crazy for taking your abilities for granted. It goes like this:
If you have something to complain about, you HAVE SOMETHING.
Something I, and a lot of other people don't have. It isn't perfect, it isn't easy, but you still have something that we have lost. Never forget that. Please...
I'm tired of lasts, and yet I lie awake every night, just like tonight, waiting, guessing, preparing for the next one. Besides Chuck, what's it gonna be? Or which last moment will be the one that torments me all night, every night. There are too many lasts. There's too much loss. And yet there will be many many more...
Last moments...
Last thoughts...
The last sentence of this post...
Lord,
Please help us all get thought it all. Hold us and comfort us through every last, through every loss. Help us live better stories. Help us know the conflicts, the losses, and the lasts in our stories are all here to bring us closer to You. Help us learn to truly know and trust that every last and loss will only lead us closer to you. Thank You for always doing everything You can to bring us closer to you. May we not take anything for granted. May we always remember there is always someone who has lost and sad goodbye to what we are lucky enough to get to complain about. Amen Lord. Amen.
Posted with Blogsy
No comments:
Post a Comment