It’s time to say them,
I was going to plan a poem for each one,
Each person, each memory that left a mark,
but time is precious and it’s becoming more so
with realizations of my mortality, the world’s.
I love my family. As much as I hide from some of them, as much as some of them have hurt me, there’s a girl who remembers the good times, a more innocent time, when our views were aligned. When Sundays meant going to see cousins and jumping on the trampoline, eating popcorn and cheese, while the adults talked “adult”. The kids played hide and seek, tricks on the staircase, sliding down each one, never a worry of injury,
sometimes a race to see who reached the bottom the fastest. Grandma giving piano lessons in 3rd grade, I couldn’t follow through so I taught myself later, but all remembrance of the keys is gone, even “the Entertainer”, that I used to play nonstop.
I love my brothers, natural and “step”. Such differing personalities, all from backgrounds that led to us being a family of nine. Nine children from one man and woman, combined. I was 19, and it was a lot to take on, being the only girl left in a house full of boys that would become men, including my own brothers who I helped in raising. I’m so impressed with all of them, with our journey as a blended family, with each of their personal stories.
My step-dad, “Pops”, I don’t say it enough, I never have, and it’s some block of conflict, a pull between “two”, my Dad and you, nothing either of you authored; a girl conflicted by having two fathers. I was resistant, I had been through some things, through other “fathers” that weren’t good for my family, then you came along, and through the miracle of time, I was able to see what a miracle you were for my mom, for all of us. Our banter is silly, we goof around mostly, but when I see you and you give me those giant bear hugs, a kiss on the forehead, I know that I’m grateful for how much you love me, and I love you.
You – I can’t say everything, not even close. My heart is still in a cinch over what happened, I don’t understand everything and I don’t understand him, all I know is I wanted to acknowledge the cycles you already lived, shake them, break them, help you heal. With all outside factors that occurred, combined with internal, combined with more “hers”, juggling three planets at once while my own was crumbling, trying to find some hidden meaning to all of the madness so I could take us out of the nose dive we were on, but it feels like you became collateral damage.
I don’t know when the rift will be mended, I don’t know if it will ever be. I just know you’re in my soul and I think about you, hurt aside, because I know we both feel it, as the baby I held at age 20, the little girl in so many of my pictures, still hung on my wall, I haven’t forgotten you. I won’t.
I’m out of words. For now.