I

I haven’t been writing the way I did a year ago; when my life was in control and I felt like it was dirt under my fingernail.  Time plays tricks like that….sometimes you don’t realize how well your life is going until the seam rips and you’re left trying to sew the pieces back together. 

The last few months have brought change, some of it wanted and some….I could have done with out.  None the less, I’m starting to feel like the oldest trick in the book.  “Do what you love and you will succeed,” my Father told me a few months ago.  He makes it sound so easy when the truth is, it wasn’t easy for him and I have a tendancy of making it harder for myself.

“You want me to do it how?”

“This is the way it’s done.”

“Yeah.  Right. Let me show how I’m gonna do it.”

Months ago, I wrote an entry about reinventing myself:

All I have to do now is reinvent myself: not like I haven’t done it before, many times. It’s true I wasn’t expecting to have to get this machinery out of the attic again, the self-reinvention machinery, and dust it off and oil its joints — aggressively low tech, that’s me — but it’s all still there. It’ll still work.

That’s what’s supposed to have happened. Maybe when I turned the old machine on again I put the key in the wrong little hole. Because I’m still the same gal  The point being that at the moment I haven’t got a life to write, not so much about, but from. Sure, I can tell you about the hilarious conversations I have on a daily basis or the amnesia filled nights but it’s all very disconcerting. I have split seconds or sometimes whole half days when the fog seems about to coalesce into perhaps some suggestion of a shape — for example this morning before I left to come here, I found my biggest decision was to be if I should wear a white top or a blue top, which shoes would be the most comfortable and what I was going to have for lunch.  FASCINATING I KNOW.

To Be continued…..

 What bill do you hate paying the most?

50. Just how OLD are you?
30

She asked me to write the words she can’t say….the words I know are in her heart but tears of knowing he’s not here hurt so bad it grabs your throat, ties a noose around it and prevents audible words.  The sound that rumbles from the back of your throat sounds like you are saying Hugh in a deep

New York accent.  Your eyes close and then….knowing her….she’s strong for those around her. She tightens herself up….even though she’s alone in the car and said out loud, “Pull it together Tiff. Enough.”  Then she broke down again.   

Yesterday, she ignored my messages; there was nothing to say…or nothing new to report. I worried she tried her best and looked for distraction.  I awoke at 2:30 am knowing she had yet to respond I sent her a message at 3:15 am to check in.  She replied at 5:40 am and texted letting me know nothing new had happened and she was fine.   Hours later she called at 3:20pm. I knew the reason for the call.  There are people in this life you are connected to and can’t even explain why you already know what’s going on in their life before they reach out to you,  

“Jessie…its Tiffy…I need to talk to you now.  Call me back.”  

“Hey sorry I was on a call and couldn’t get off quick enough.” 

“Yeah, my Father died.” 

“….” 

“I’ve only she two tears” 

We spoke briefly and then she had to go, there is only so much to say at times like these when the wound is less than an hour exposed to the elements…you go numb. It’s a feeling that makes your body heavy…the aching debriefs all feelings of comfort; you feel everything yet lost in your own skin.  It hurts like leprosy. 

Every relationship with a parent takes on a different meaning for siblings.  A Father can be the best friend to one sibling and an enemy to the next. Daddy Holcombe, as we called him in high school, was a opinionated man who pushed his children in different directions. He wanted the best for his children yet feared the way they grew apart from him and stood on their own feet.  Regardless of how troubled their relationship is she loves him… he is still her Father. 

And that’s what hurts. 

Shelley and I spoke briefly – we’ve all been friends since we were 15/16 years old for crying out loud and after reliving the last week of her life with Shell I said, “I’m looking into tickets and need to come this weekend.” 

“Jessie – it hasn’t hit her yet – she needs her girls.” 

“I know but she doesn’t know that yet.  I’m looking at tickets.  Call Becky.” 

“Okay. Love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

This is unchartered territory for us…I’ve had friends who have lost siblings and grandparents…and I’ve had friends who have lost parents in younger years with out understanding the magnitude of the situation.  The four of us have been there for one another regardless of how ridiculously different our lives have shaped themselves.  I’m in sales, Becky is a lawyer, Tiffany is a college professor & Shell is an Editor.  I’ll come in from Houston, Becky from Tampa, Shelley from South Carolina and Tiffy from

Charlotte to convene at her parent’s house.  We all knew of difficulties with each one’s families and we’ve shared the weight of them as well.

 Once you met Tiffany’s Father you couldn’t deny his presence.  If you try to ignore the elephant in the room -  his opinion of why you’re doing it would have stomped you wrong.  He was a man of stature and a lot of other things…..regardless, he was still her Father, and now he’s with the great Architect in the sky.

Paul Simon says there are fifty way to leave your lover. There are at least fifty ways to leave a dull party, the office, a bad date, sporting event, and a state of mind. What about temporary? How does one admit they really have moved from fad to classic?There are many ways to state closure. So long, farewell, good riddance, goodbye, adios, adieu, later, till then. ”Farewell”  holds a wish for the other person to travel on under favorable conditions and wishes for them to stay clear of danger. “Adieu” literally means “To God” as if the person saying goodbye leaves the other one in God’s care. “Goodbye” with “good” meaning pleasure and “bye”  meaning purchase, so buy yourself something nice. Fine. I’m fibbing on the last one. Exits and partings are often the subjects of novels, poems, plays, and songs because we are constantly faced with how to leave one stage while venturing into the next.  There is a level of uncertainty and a feeling of thinking if I don’t walk  a straight line…if I faulter the slightest inch I will fall off the tight rope and into The Nothing.  How does one leave one stage and transition to the next?  How does one gather transitional confidence? Usually transition occurs alone. The lucky ones experience are able to walk through transition with friends. Walking through the door of Adulthood and beating down the proverbial Disney fairy tales together we learn there are no endings or exit strategies. Change is inevitable. I’ll never admit to standing still or moving backwards. I’ve missed people before they were gone and cried in the shower while he slept on the couch before he left. I was scared and pushed him away, and then we failed. I once missed a friend while she sat across the table as we clinked glasses. It would never be the same, maybe it was jealousy, rage, or no friend at all yet I missed her and said goodbye. Yesterday was freeing in a way.  Shared moments are never going to mean the same, the discrepancy can be huge. I’ve always known I assign more meaning to my relationships then I should once you’re in my heart, I can’t let go or be mad. I love and loved you for a reason, friend or foe. Sometimes saying goodbye occurs like a car veering off a cliff. One is left wondering what just happened and how will I ever get along with out their guidance? It was a crash, boom, bang, a moment of dizzy that leaves you looking for the rewind button. It’s like not being able to find a piece of jewelry you wear every day or waking up and realizing the tattoo on your ankle you’ve known since college has disappeared. The vices you’ve invested in and lock boxes where secrets are stored will remain locked in their present location. Fine. I’m. Fine. Really.I’ve often wondered what life would be like had I been born to another family, I come up short with nothing, it’s not possible. I can’t imagine what life would be like if certain people weren’t in my life. Ronda and I have never fought. Isn’t that weird? My best friends from high school and I have a ten minute tiff before we say goodbye. Dr. Phil would say it’s because we love one another and are frustrated because we can’t always be there. Fine.Saturday afternoon Ronda text messaged: “U really don’t know how much it meant 2 have you there last night. To Never Ending.”I always will, however I can. To Never Ending.To her, them, and you I say farewell, adieu, and till tomorrow never ending.  

Chicago Memories

“there are certain thing u shouldn’t have to pay for in life. Sex and parking”

Heck ya table 20!

Excuse me sir.
He’s not a sir - we’re looking for your Dad

Thanks
Come again.
I plan to

If i lived in Texas i would own a truck

Flash Taco - eat here

Drunk powers activate!

25 yr. old ….check.

Are we really watching Nascar…on purpose?

I have a bed downstairs. DING!!

Chicago Memories

“there are certain thing u shouldn’t have to pay for in life. Sex and parking”

Heck ya table 20!

Excuse me sir.
He’s not a sir - we’re looking for your Dad

Thanks
Come again.
I plan to

If i lived in Texas i would own a truck

Flash Taco - eat here

Drunk powers activate!

25 yr. old ….check.

Are we really watching Nascar…on purpose?

I have a bed downstairs. DING!!

do you remember that feeling of heartache whenyou don’t want to move but you can’t help it….then…even when you do….your arms, legs, fingers and everything is to numb to feel anything

I do this weird thing all the time:

I tell people what I am actually feeling.

Not a sugar coated, white washed, bullshit version of my feelings.  But rather the uncensored, whole truth. Everybody gets this same treatment: friends, family, co-workers, shopclerks.  This is evidently a problem because it gets me in trouble on a regular basis.  

Every time I do this, I consider that next time I should be more reserved, more cautious of telling people what I really think.  

But it seems that, without having my heart surgically removed, I just don’t think I’ll be ever able to do that.  Unless maybe somebody winds a roll of duct tape around my lips

She was the only kid on the block that rode a Fuji bike and the first one to make me feel pain. Outside of a parent, she was also the first one to love me.

“You also had a Huffy.” I reminded her after I returned home from a meeting with Fuji bikes.

“Her name was Pink Thunder to you Red Tornado.”

I never questioned why we spoke in riddles growing up, it was always part of us and not who we are. I knew her words were meant as a slam and know love comes in different sizes. She expressed her’s in real time swallowed with a grain of salt. To an outsider, she can be extreme and matriculate. To me, she’s acting with out caution, that’s what makes us sisters. So alike, yet so different.

She first told me she loved me by slamming the door in my face when I was three years old. Decades later she’d tell me by saying “Good-bye.” I’d return the favor by calling her a “Stepford Wife.” I don’t even know what that means outside of a bad Nicole Kidman movie where the women were scary. June Cleaver scary. The tone she took while wearing a buttoned up white coat and matching headband reminded me of June pushing a vaccum in her headband, matching shoes and pearls of course.  Oh how my sister loves pearls. 

“Please stop with that condescending tone.”

“Jessie, if you think that’s how I sound, you need help.’

“You’re a Stepford wife.”

I know my oldest Brother has since scoffed and said to his wife, “she IS a stepford wife,” this I know with out confirmation. Cause when we’re together he talks, he says stuff. She’s always been my older sister. To Him, she’s always been the one our Parents gave everything to. To me, She was the one I could never measure up to. To Her, I never needed to.

That was page one of our history and page two of nothing I can explain