Echoes of Anger and Angst...

Why does this issue haunt me? It's 1:00 AM and my mind is racing, as well as my heart. The knot is in my stomach and in my throat. Why do I rehash the words that were said and cannot be taken back or forgotten? Why do I analyze and re-analyze each nuance and sentence of every e-mail for a deeper meaning? Why do I feel so terribly fragile and abandoned by my brother? Why do I care so much?

I have so few blood relatives and he is my only sibling. I had been taught by my mother 's example to put him on a pedastal. He is "man" and I am "woman." And, yes, there is a difference. His standard joke is that NASA put Sally Ride on the space ship so she could clean the windows. And yes, I'm ashamed that I laughed.

During our fiasco, I called him a mysoginist out of deep-seated anger. I also called him a number of other things...pompous, arrogant - and a few other gems. I was told that I play the role of "victim," and blame my parents for everything that's gone sour in my life.

WORDS - they can be forgiven but never forgotten. The book of James says that the tongue is a two-edged sword and is harmful. It has destroyed the bond between a brother and sister; a brother and sister who used to be so close, we'd have marathon phone calls, discussing politics and world issues, the state of the world. I always sought his advice and looked forward to talking with him or seeing him. Now, that is gone. With the stroke of the keyboard, it is all gone.

His image of me is destroyed as is mine of him. We all have clay feet but apparently, as in our case, that can't be forgiven. Two months after our diatribe, I sent another e-mail telling him that our parents would be very upset at the state we were in. This was at the anniversary of our mother's death and I felt so badly. I was informed that he had nothing to apologize about. His conscience was clear.

to be cont....

Echoes from the Garden...

My best thoughts often come to me when I'm in the garden, pulling weeds and smashing snails. Unfortunately, I didn't have pen and paper in hand so most of these thoughts went the way of the dandelion and scattered in the breeze, never to return to my consciousness.

I do remember thinking of the weird dreams I'd been having recently of Brian...in one of them I dreamed he was calling to me for help and in another, he was on my roof shooting a gun at nothing in particular. I had him on my mind a lot in the past few days, and lo and behold, he called me. It is so strange how many times this has happened to me over the years. I hadn't heard from him since he left the "message" on the answering machine on my birthday in June and hadn't seen him in almost a year. He and Cindy came by to pick up a resume I prepared for him. He, too, suffers from depression and Doug's death has affected him deeply. Unfortunately, he also suffers from a case of "bad attitude" and anti-social behaviors. It's such a shame because he has such a great heart and is capable of so much.

Separations - brother and sister. This is such a strange relationship. Kids fight like cats and dogs but when grown can transform into such a tight bond. Now there is separation in two generations. Two tightly woven bonds have snapped and the resulting backlash has deeply wounded four people, plus the people swept up into the tide, those that love them. I hope and pray for healing.

I was covered with mud and snail slime, and thought how it is that, when we need them the most, our parents are no longer available to us. How I would love to be able to sit down with my dad and ask him what to do with this craziness with KR. What would his advice be? How would he handle it? I know it would grieve him deeply if he knew that his two offspring were in such a state. He and his brother were estranged but I don't know what caused it. I remember seeing his brother coming out of the mortuary after viewing my dad's earthly remains, wiping his eyes, seeming truly broken. He didn't know I could see him, but it helped me to know that he was feeling the loss of his brother, that he loved him. It's a shame that I don't remember them ever interacting as brothers should...

I have missed my dad every moment since his death in March of 1969 - that's 37 years I've spent wondering what if he'd lived...how would KR have turned out? I wonder....He claims to be so much like our dad yet there are certain areas in which he could never measure up. My dad never mocked or ridiculed women and he relished being in the company of our mother and we all knew how much he loved her. I have wonderful memories of walking in on them in the kitchen, wrapped tightly in an embrace, and seeing me, they just smiled. What a way to grow up! Knowing your parents were in love...what a gift~They were like that. They weren't "huggy-kissy" with us kids but I always felt secure seeing how much they loved each other.

I wish I could bring back the philosophical words of wisdom I had while in the garden but this will have to suffice.

Echoes of the Full Moon...

Friday morning, 12:32...the moon is full tonight. I just finished reading "The Mermaid Chair," by Sue Monk Kidd. It's full of mystery, full moons, mermaids, mythologies, self-destruction and resolution. I wish I could get into my head and pull out my emotions as well as Ms. Kidd does and so eloquently knit them together into a beautiful story that people could relate to and admire. But my feelings are so fragmented, frayed and elusive...I don't understand them myself.

Why does the moon press upon me at times, oppressing me and depressing me, and at other times, smile down upon me as a benevolent friend? Tonight, it is a beautiful, clear, beatific moon but I take no pleasure in it.

On the beach in Honolulu, watching the moon laughing down at the water and rippling out on it's waves, crossing the shoreline to my heart as I leaned against a palm tree, listening to soft Hawaiian music, as tears softly slid down my cheeks, I knew that that time and space would be forever within me. It was a pleasure that was unexplainable but wrapped itself within my very being and would remain in my memory until it ceases to be.

When I go into the place I try so hard to avoid, I often go back in time to that space in time and again find myself there, with the moon reaching inside me and it makes the dark place lighter.