alright people. i'm meditating, hypnotherapy-ing, hot pink smoothi-ing, omega 3-ing, rebounding, probiotic-ing, hot bath-ing, scripture-ing, and creating my way through grief. this is much more productive than the chocolate and salted carmel macadamian nuts (p.s. this was a GREAT reminder to self that what i eat DOES make a huge difference. and it's hard when you start to spiral down to climb out).
so, i am sharing snippets of my heart and my stories and who knows what else. i have no plan right now, other than to create.
my dear cousin and i have a "challenge" together--and all i know is i do well with those. she is an artist. an amazing one. we are eaching "creating" every day (she painting and i writing) and we are emailing each other each day. i'll be honest, it's kind of fantastic to trade creations with someone who has a talent that i could never claim, but appreciate. she did this in a one day in a ridiculously short time frame. isn't is beautiful? man i can taste the oranges. i wish i was grocery shopping my way through grief.
so, i'm sharing this with you today. it's still rough, but it's a third story that i have a super rough outline for.
Sinking Goodbyes
There was no one there to mourn with us. They were strangers here and I an outcast for loving them. The only sound was the rhythmic dip of my paddle and the drip, drip, drip of the water droplets that fell off of it as I brought it up after each scoop that propelled us further. Brought us to the end. The gnats bit the back of my sweaty neck, but I didn’t have a hand to spare or the energy to swat them away.
Nomi sat at the front of the canoe, her eyes unseeing as she looked ahead at the lake. This day she had already watched her husband’s body dropped to the lake’s bottom and then her oldest son’s and now her eyes clouded over and I imagined that the last thing they might see before becoming blind with pain and despair was her youngest son, the one who teased her about being her favorite being dropped to the bottom of the lake. This watery burial tradition that she had brought with her from her tribe. The tradition my weary thin arms had helped her accomplish as I rowed the canoe back and forth and mauneverd each stiff body into the center of the canoe, to steady the balance. And now it was time to bury her youngest son. Her youngest son, and my husband.
I hadn’t cried when we had buried his family, being strong for Nomi so she could grieve and yell and beat her fists in the air before watching their bodies, clothes weighted down with rocks drift to the bottom, too quickly to bring back. But I cried now. I beat my fists against my chest and screamed . The marsh birds around the edges of the lake taking off in flight, away from the anger that bounced across the waves. He was too good to die. I took one final look at his battered face, before kissing his eyelids.
“Selah,” as if waking out of her blindness Nomi reached out her hand, “I will do it for you.”
“No.” I selfishly wanted to be the last one to touch him. Even though he could not feel. I still could. Although I wished I couldn’t feel, because the pain was too much and it threatened to overtake my breath and strangle me from the outside.
I wanted to do it neatly, but the canoe shook and water came pouring over the side as I attempted to roll his body into the water. My life had become messy and now even my mourning was sloppy. I forced myself to watch as his body sunk deeper and then I sunk back against the seat of the canoe.
It was finished.
“I am going home.” Nomi said this, her eyes still fixed ahead.
“Yes. Of course.” I didn’t begin to paddle, hovering over where my love was buried by water. I would never find him again, but I would find the grief etched all over my body, so perhaps it was unnecessary to come here to grieve, it would stay with me.
“I will go with you.”
“No. You must stay here. You will take off your skins and bury them here, with your husband and your past. You will stay safe and forget that we came and that you loved us. You will meet a new man and raise babies with him. I will go home and I will tuck the memory of you in my heart and pray that you will forget ours every night.” She said this all resolutely, firmly, the first time I saw her former resolve surface since that night that had stolen away our future and forced us onto a new path.
I was silent.
I thought of untying the leopard skin from around my chin and watching it drop down after my husband. I could give away my new faith. I could forget about my promises. I could walk away from the things I had felt. I could pretend that it was all a mistake to join these strangers and travelers. To fall in love with their faith and their ways. I could part ways with Nomi and all evidence of my past three years would be gone. There was no child. There was no witness other than Nomi to know what I had promised, and she was before me, allowing me leave. I imagined weighting the black and white skin that covered my head with a rock and dropping it next to Ranmi and letting his mother find her way home across the mountains. I thought of her traversing the mountains with her cataracts, without bread to eat or a friend to sing her grief to sleep at night.
I put my black hand in her weathered brown one. “We are the same people now. Don’t you remember? We are bound by blood and faith now and there is no going back for me.”
She nodded.
And I began to paddle, not back, but forward. Leaving the empty shore behind us.
Brook,i FINALLY got a second to read this and i LOVE it! thank you for sharing... sorry it took me so long to read this. love you my dear friend
Posted by: Joanie BW | March 01, 2014 at 12:25 PM
Absolutely gorgeous - so descriptive and full of emotion.... as I was reading, I was thinking.. you really do know how to paddle a canoe! Thank goodness for all the activities that you have experienced with having an "outdoor dad".
Thanks for sharing your delicious writing.
Posted by: Colette | March 02, 2014 at 04:12 PM
It took me even longer to read this! But I'm so happy I did. It's beautiful. I want more. :o) Always.
Posted by: Kristi | March 10, 2014 at 08:27 AM
So, I wrote you a message about this but I needed to publicly declare my love for it. I LOVE IT!
Posted by: Olivia | March 10, 2014 at 10:12 PM