Loss

"Love is never lost. If not reciprocated, it will flow back and soften and purify the heart." ---Washington Irving-

At my grandma's funeral, I didn't understand why everyone was crying.
I joined in anyway. I was 7.
I think I was sadder when I lost my pet turtle.
I was pretty fortunate. My first experiene of real loss didn't come until I was 23.
Losing your wife to another man can really set you back emotionally.
After the anger and thoughts of revenge subside, your left only with a crushed heart, and bruised psyche. It can take years to get over and start functioning in a manner worthy of an adult male.
You never know when you go to sleep if she'll once again pop up in your dreams.
Every time the phone rings that "what if it's her" voice chimes in.
By the time I was finally past that loss, it was time for another.
This one can come in the form of a policeman standing in your kitchen as you come home to visit your dad on your lunch break only to find that he won't be able to join you because the night before your father went to sleep for the last time.
Dad's body stayed in bed all day as we waited for the medical examiner to finish his round of golf.
Dad died when I was 31. When the cop told me that my father was dead, I cried out "No no no no no..." My oldest brother told me to shut up. At the sight of my intent glare he realized his mistake and apologized.
My first reaction was interesting to say the least. I started going on a cleaning frenzy. I just felt the need to be organized and I went fast to work gathering account information, cleaning out cupboards, throwing out all kinds of stuff.
A couple days later I cried my eyes out. I kept envisioning him walking into the room. I kept hearing him yell as I walked up the driveway, and dreamt of him often.
It's funny, I rarely think of the bad days we had. I look back with fondness and appreciate the type of father he was, the interest he showed in his sons, the family trips, the ballgames, the beach, his hairy legs and cheesy clothes.
Those two losses, when I reflect on them, never make me cry.
But there is a loss I've encountered that makes me weep and blubber.
The irony is that I see this person almost everyday. It's my mom.
Once full of life, energy, wit, and love, she is now devoid of emotion entirely.
This loss came gradually, and I've been able until recently to simply repress my emotion and cope by "changing the channel" in my mind when thoughts of her demise sprung up.
There is nothing sadder for me, than to see the loss, feel the loss of my mother's loving bond with her children.
The anti-psychotic drugs keep her from hallucinating and jumping in front of a bus, but that's it. A good day for my mother is when she only is depressed.
My mother is depressed 24/7. She hates herself so damn much. She has irrational fears of my brother never coming home, even when he just walks to the corner store. When I tell her I love her, she states that she's not worthy of anyone's love.
My mom is 77. She wants to die. She's wanted to die for decades. She smokes like someone who wants to die.
My father wanted to live. You couldn't keep him off the golf course. He never smoked, and rarely ever drank.
Irony, huh? I dread the day that I have to watch my mother die a slow painful death. You KNOW that's the way it will go down. Life's cruel little joke.
I will have to lose my mother all over again.

" 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have lost at all."
Samuel Butler 1903