Drowning while already drowned

Exhale. I have been wanting to write since my return now and couldn’t and didn’t while having used the excuse of having the laptop being repaired by my sister. She did and now I felt that excusing myself was a bit too much. Besides, I couldn’t sleep anymore. It’s jet lag I suppose.

My grandmother is dead. Both of my grandparents on father’s side now are deceased. I remember the craziness of February 4th when I woke up still in daze from my other slumber of having the feeling that I’ve drowned already from “failure” to imminently being told that she is not well. I meddled in booking the trip to see her and not wanting my father to be alone….it’s such a painful journey, then I finally faced the consequence of having to face an even slimmer bank account after an unexpected expense of purchasing the unplanned ticket for a flight coming up in a few hours….it was done.

The plane ride. I didn’t truthfully know what to feel. If I could feel even really. We got through it. Surreal. Then we arrived. Just like that, BAAM a different setting again. Warm weather, not bullshit of racist choking dogma, a country full of brown and black people again. Again….

It hit me that grandmother was already dead when riding in the car. Before that I was still naive in a way and unknowing of what was happening. Then I got it. It is utterly too late. She already passed away. Though we arrived on the most fastest flight possible, grandmother’s flesh was already empty and her soul and body warmth never to be witnessed by my father nor I again. Not here anymore at least. I remember vaguely not looking out of the car windows anymore during that ride, a feeling of not caring and knowing where I was going (I don’t know the city of Addis like that anyways) and just feeling that it was irrelevant anyways. Then we arrived. People, so many people who were crying and screaming. Then the wooden box. Grandma inside but I was unable to see her anymore as she was shut closed. The same room with the table holding her straight in the living room which I vowed and looked forward to visiting soon. How did I not recognize that 5 years almost passed since that promise was last made? What the fuck is the point question, crossed my mind again…at least began to pop up it’s seeds in my mind at that moment.

I felt paralyzed. I couldn’t go and touch the casket. It felt like a blur. I never touched grandma for the last time before she was whisked into the graveyard, a day later. I remember losing breath and nearly collapsing at the church site after the burial when the claustrophobia of so many people and and a hike to get to the church in the sun finally caught up with me. I had to kneel down, with stamina I gasped but did not faint. I was panicking. My aunt allowed me the space and I was able to get out of the crowd to sit down away from it. I remember sleeping later after that for some hours.

Grandmother is gone now.

 

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That I was insanely emotionally brave – even if 6,727 kilometers or 4, 170 miles away

This was a draft from days ago…….

I quite often now think about how I want to remember having had lived my life. When I am dead and no longer physically or emotionally here in this world to be remembered by. I want people to know that I truly took emotional “risks” though I wish they were fully acknowledged as having “had lived your own, true, pure truth” out for the world and people to see. I want that more than anything when I am dead.

To bask in the knowledge that I took the scary path of being real, vulnerable and free to share what I feel deeply without pretentiousness and or malicious or calculated intent. That I was brave and believed so strongly in being real and living truthfully and authentically from the inside out as opposed to the outside in. That I let my inner god and soul live out here also in this world and among very hurt people who are glazed over by the superficiality of it all. The outside pressures to be something we are not and wasting our lives building and living out in a way that is not authentic to our inner selves. The commonly “lucky ones” as it is labeled within our society, reach this by having a “mid life crisis” to reach this point. Where they reach a point in life when they question everything they have had done and how that measures up to their real emotions and thoughts and hopes and personal fulfillment. This happens most commonly in their mid 40’s that it should take this long of leading a life heading towards a “path” that is not consistent with their inner truth which they fight to ignore or hide because being vulnerable and facing it all seems like a daunting and unwelcome event in our world. I think that the lucky ones find a right partnership, friendships and family dynamics that support a continuous safe space for all of this. Others may never find this and must always do this alone, but actually no they don’t have to do it alone I think there is always an opportunity to be surrounded by the like minded people and the supportive messages that will support this type of approach to life. This is a mater of bravery then and belief in others, the inner trust that they are worthy of your undying loyalty and belief in them.

Then I begin my conversations with you, that you never get to hear…..So I have these thoughts of how I am “the one”, that same “one” that you have let go right now because frankly neither one of us is ready for what we both could have built together. I personally know that I need some time on my own only for me. And for you this time also means perhaps chasing other women. I do not like the sound of it, the feel of it, the idea of it, nothing really of that I like but, also I respect and truly believe that if I need my space you need yours as well.

It seems like a storm is out there. The first day of a new month. Second to last month of this year. I just had an intense thought of you. I browsed through my photos from the gift photo shoot that my roommate gifted me. I see how I was consumed with thoughts of you. How much if you had only known I don’t think your heart could not have had opened up to me. I think I really have fallen for that soul of yours which you have not yet gotten to know yourself, and my love even from such a huge distance of 6, 170 kilometers sends you nothing but positive wishes. You had asked me once what “love is” and I think through this entire journey I have been exploring what it means myself. Sometimes love is quiet, patient, tender, raw, and bare. Utterly vulnerable and humbled by the circumstance.

I felt something for you from the first moment I saw you in that kitchen in Berlin. The very moment I stepped out into the kitchen after doing make up, I knew I was in some sort of trouble because I was not emotionally equipped for a “relationship” at the time. I truly believe that I see in you, your traces of your authentic self which you do not see yourself. My confidence in this should not alarm or scare you, instead I wish for it to cover you with comfort sense of security, specialness and love. Also the confidence in knowing that you, it is YOU who has this from another person who in reality is a complete stranger to you, yet her soul has found also a familiar thread of love and comfort in you for her too. I liked to watch you when you sat by your computer and stared at your screen so obsessively focused on something that you were working on. I sensed your insecurities and I felt the tightness of your lips reflecting the rope you place around your hear to protect it. There was something in that reservness that makes me pay attention to you and feel a sense of loyalty and solidarity because I see it, acknowledge it and deeply cherish it because it is emotional gold that I can notice in the way I do.  I noticed in you what you hide and perhaps neglect yourself to notice. Silence for now.

And then life forever moves forward. Well no not forever but we move forward while appreciating the present time.

 

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