Reverse Eulogy


There are plenty of things that come to mind when I think about how the word “Abandoned” can relate to anything in my world.  Toys that were left behind when I was a kid, a story about playing with this tractor that used to rot in a field not far from the house I grew up in, even some lengthy treatise I could write about how relationships twist the soul when they end.

The worst of these is abandoning myself.  My mother was here for most of the past week helping me get resettled after too many days hooked up to machines.  While I long ago learned from the torment that was dealing with my grandparents medical situations, explicit instructions for just about every scenario written by my lawyer has made my mom feel at times helpless.  I don’t want her to have to make a decision that I know from experience takes a large part of you and it never comes back.

While she was packing her bag to head home, she said the following “You aren’t anything like you once were.  It’s hard to get used to years shifting in what feels like moments for your father and I”.

Too many factors changed too quickly in such a short period of time that I needed to leave quickly.  Give up on my home, some friends, and other things that I write about here but never speak of with others.  I knew the mental costs needed to be placed first on the list and even today, 18 months later, I don’t have a great grip on some very important factors in my life.

I non longer talk openly about the anger that can be debilitating at times.  Surrounding me are plenty of good people with honest motives, and yet I push so hard at times to get them out of my room I know they end up hurt.  Even when they acknowledge the reasons, I try my best to abandon my emotions to guard theirs.

Too often I fail.  That promise I made my daughter comes back to haunt me that I haven’t been the better person she needed.  Adults understand, children just get hurt.  It the one aspect of my life that I waver between sadness and relief that she can’t see.

When the car stopped and my mom jumped out for the terminal all I could say to her was “Thanks for coming”.

She looked confused, like I had thanked her for picking up groceries.  I know she cried later, but at that moment she knew I was back to placing another brick in the wall.  So she did me the favor of letting me.

I keep getting asked what it is like knowing you have limited time left.  Not Bucket List items, but how I handle it.  The only advice I can give is that you shouldn’t handle it the way I have.  Abandoning everything originally so that my ex didn’t have to see any of this was a smart choice, for me.  [maybe I also couldn’t be strong enough to handle knowing she had abandoned me?]  But now I find myself writing reverse eulogies for people offering thanks for what they brought to my life, even as I ignore it or deny it’s presence.

Emotions are a tough thing to quantify.  Every single one of them is valid.  Every single on of them reaches farther than the recesses of my mind.  And every single one of them has an affect on others that I can only partially see or predict.

My mother is right.  Outwardly I have become cold to some people.  Never the kids/teenagers, but it’s hard to hid some things when they are connected to my arm by a pump and tubing.


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