Feeling No Pain
Having safely arrived in Chicago, I slept. And slept. And slept. It was the deep, dreamless sleep of the emotionally drained. When I awoke, nothing. The anxiety, the anger, the pain were all gone. I was completely numb. It was a gift.
Days and weeks went by as if we were “just visiting” grandma and grandpa. But then, a routine began to develop. I started going to aerobics every morning with a friend—and dragging the kids to her house afterward for lunch. My younger brother came home each night and played a swashbucking game of “swords” with three-year-old Leo. Grandpa and Sophie became “breakfast buddies” since they were the early risers in the house. It wasn’t as if we didn’t have this giant cloud of what’s-going-to-happen-next over all of our heads, but peace and laughter reigned.
My parents were never so perfect. Total support, no judgment. I kept thinking they ought to be mad at me. After all, they had spent $35,000 just five years prior for a Malibu wedding. Married almost forty years at the time, they knew marriage was like river rafting—you could be floating along without looking and hit a waterfall that forced you overboard before you knew what happened. They got it.
I wanted to hide out there in the numbness for eternity. I chose not to.
Days and weeks went by as if we were “just visiting” grandma and grandpa. But then, a routine began to develop. I started going to aerobics every morning with a friend—and dragging the kids to her house afterward for lunch. My younger brother came home each night and played a swashbucking game of “swords” with three-year-old Leo. Grandpa and Sophie became “breakfast buddies” since they were the early risers in the house. It wasn’t as if we didn’t have this giant cloud of what’s-going-to-happen-next over all of our heads, but peace and laughter reigned.
My parents were never so perfect. Total support, no judgment. I kept thinking they ought to be mad at me. After all, they had spent $35,000 just five years prior for a Malibu wedding. Married almost forty years at the time, they knew marriage was like river rafting—you could be floating along without looking and hit a waterfall that forced you overboard before you knew what happened. They got it.
I wanted to hide out there in the numbness for eternity. I chose not to.
posted by Ask Me Anything at Wednesday, October 11, 2006
6 Comments:
Lovely piece. So glad your parents were there for you as I imagine you are for them. Great writing Terry.
They raised a woman they can be proud of.
You are just full of wisdom! I loved the river rafting analogy. So true!
Hard to imagine you did not consider yourself and writer and you hesitated in taking this leap. You are a magnificent writer, I can clearly see the story unfolding. Nice work.
This is great! I'm totally hooked.
You are IT on a stick! The future best selling Terry Whitaker! Can't wait to say, "I knew you when!" Not enough has been made about your never-ending talents!
Great blog. I love how you keep us hanging for the next part.
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