I think the anger is buried. The anger is buried and it carries a weight
that I don't even know to acknowledge.
I'm angry that you're gone and missing
and maybe still not getting help.
I'm angry that no one ever put up boundaries that made a damn difference,
that money was equated with love and caring
and that we now have none to give.
I'm angry you didn't know better and thought I was mean,
that I didn't care. That I wasn't willing to enable and shield.
I'm angry that this week was your birthday
and that I can't say it to you.
The truth is a brutal bitch
and the truth is I miss you.
But I can't be with you.
I'm angry that I have become some default secretary and gatekeeper of data.
It's not what I wanted for me and for you and for us, all of us.
I'm angry at so many enabling people,
at toxic behaviors and beliefs perpetuated for so long.
I'm angry that we were made into adults as we inhabited children's bodies.
That other adults meant to guide us acted like children, so we couldn't.
I'm angry for the pain in the world and that things really aren't fair.
I'm angry that that's not how it works.
That cycles of abuse perpetuate until someone is ready to feel it.
And I've sat through the fiery remains of all we were, what family became.
Examining and cultivating new definitions. New realities.
Without Mom and without you, dear sister. Without Grandpa.
I'm angry that she can't remember and even when she could,
didn't have the tools to wrangle you or to know the love she deserved.
I'm angry that they told her if she didn't like how it was she should leave.
For the cycles of abuse, for desecrated definitions of family.
Of love and caring and closeness.
It became insanity and chaos and meanness.
I used to be so angry for the drugs and drinking,
but that's old news now.
I realized I can't really be angry, not at her.
She doesn't remember all the times it wasn't safe.
She also doesn't know just how much I love her,
doesn't recall all the beautiful times and moments
that defined and guided me to the woman I've become.
And really, I'm angry that I'm not really angry at all.
That I carry this weight around in my body and being,
not sure of where it has settled or how to view it most clearly.
Anger only serves a purpose for a bit,
then you decide if you turn to wine or vinegar.
I've found that to ring very true.
Because what I'm left with now is
gratitude and gladness for the things that remain.
For my dearest brother and father and stepmother
and memories of goodness to treasure near.
I'm grateful even now to want to be alive,
because there were surely times to pain was too great,
too near, too overwhelming to bear.
I'm grateful to have stumbled upon the closest thing to prayer,
to have the ability to send you love and warmest wishes.
To wish you the very best
even as I know I can't be near you, can't see you or speak with you.
I'm grateful for the times I channel strength
to get organized and respond to inquiries of where you are.
I'm grateful at learning to find contentment in the gray spaces,
of not knowing what tomorrow brings,
if you'll survive or cease to exist. All of it must be ok.
For any outcome, I love you still.
Always have, always will.
Dear sister, dear mother, dear universe,
give us strength and love and the abilities to carry on.
To hold tight to one another and ride this storm through its end.
It's ok, it's alright.
Much of life is alarmingly not right
but I'm emboldened and assured that this too shall pass.
It has and it will and we survive, still.
There's so much beauty to behold and I'm finding it, bit by bit.
For friends and family and loving friends that are family.
For glimpses of sunny skies and the agency to breathe in and out.
For free will and the best damn brother, Will.
For knowing I'm quite a strong and resilient person
and for finally believing it and claiming it as a badge.
For the patience and ability to sit still,
for letting the tears stream down and heal my own wounds.
For channeling the hurts into good,
and showing others an example of what growth is or could be.
For survival and all the ways we stand tall,
while holding strong to the truth
that life really is suffering and total shit and awful
and still,
here I am, here we are.
Thriving and striving and seeking for love, still.
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