a Clockwork Rabbit

What heroes really are.

Ne me quitte pas.

My aunt has passed away. I feel guilty and childish and vicious and weepy and scared and alone. As if the wall at my back has suddenly dissipated, leaving me cold and exposed.

I feel relieved. For her. No more vomiting or waiting to hear if you’re on the list for a transplant. No more money woes, no more anything. Just the jump off before your next life. Just a forest of ghosts.

I’m relieved for me. Selfishly. No more fear over how she’s doing, no more watching helplessly as she pukes her guts out, no more staying awake at night wondering how the fuck this is gonna happen, no more wanting to take her pain on to myself. No more feeling guilty for her having that huge family house but no huge family living in it.  No more doing what I can and knowing that it is never EVER enough.

I love her. I keep hearing that she was like a mother to me. But people don’t understand… for a while in my life I believed in her more than I believed in God. She righted wrongs, she laughed and let me laugh, too. She understood my anger and forgave me for it. And she made one BITCHING apple pie.

God, these words aren’t enough…and they’re all I have.

How do I explain what it felt like to know that if I chose to open my wings she’d understand? If I chose to remain small and bitter she’d let me? I never touched her enough, she who gave hugs like spreading some strange seed. I admired her, even when the sickness paled her, made her slower. I admired everything about her. From her caramel eyes to her tiny little feet.

I’m too tired to rage, to blame or to even accept. I am too tired of myself to keep crying. She gave me so many lessons.

When my mother was too much she’d give me the space I needed to breathe. When I hurt too much to even weep she was there. jUST THERE. i COULD REACH OUT TO HER whenever i wanted to.

When I wasn’t angry enough she’d bring the wrath. When I couldn’t show how hard I loved she let me give everything I could and encourage me to give more. She was brave and chilling and bright and warm and…

I control my everything.

I control myself with iron and I control my interaction with other people to the point where I will cut them off from me when they start being too … human and wild and unacceptable. I cut them off and locked them away. I know, now, this can’t keep on… I can’t control everything and everyone around me.

I couldn’t control the sickness, I couldn’t fight it or cuss at it or shake it till it saw reason. I can’t control the family that I told her that I’d learn to love…or at least accept.

She’s leaving me more lessons.