Write about it, this little voice somewhere deep inside says...write about it.
I can barely see the screen...because of the tears.
I feel so alone. More alone than I have ever been in my life.
Alix, my daughter...the baby bird... is officially moved into Georgia Tech. Her home is now Atlanta, Georgia. Not my home. No longer my home.
I thought I did okay... tears, yes, starting with this morning. I thought I was prepared, knowing that I’d be in tears today--hell, I cry at the drop of a hat--over Kodak commercials and the Olympics. Asking AJ to watch out for his sister-- making sure she is okay. Knowing that he will always take care of her, no matter what...but I needed to say it anyway.
Saying goodbye... yep it was hard. Tears--trying to hide them because I am so excited that she is starting her adult life and I don’t want to dampen that in any way. I’m fighting so hard not to let her see me upset, because that upsets HER so much.
And I am so excited for her...so excited. Her whole life stretches out in front of her, filled with endless possibilities. I want her to go--I want her to fly, I want her to soar, I want her to figure out who she is. I want her to LIVE.
I called my sister-in-law Julie as I worked my way through Atlanta’s pre-rush hour traffic. She is in the same boat, having sent my nephew Austin off to Rhodes College in Memphis this morning. That was a comfort, just hearing her voice.
But just a few minutes ago, as darkness settled over Middle-of-Nowhere, I look out the window toward the garage and thought to myself “I wonder what time Alix and Wesley will be home tonight.”
And I fell apart.
This pain. This horrible pain. This “reach into my heart and rip it out by the fists-full” kind of pain that I have never experienced in my life. Long, slow, bleed-to-death kinda pain. No-end-in-sight kinda pain.
I am so alone.
And this little voice inside of me says “write”.
I guess when AJ left for college, Alan and I were still together. I had a shoulder to lean on--as much as I could. There was at least a warm body on the sofa next to me...and whatever else happened in out relationship, we managed to raise two pretty exceptional children.
But now, I am flying solo here in totally unchartered waters.
My head tells me that it will get better. And my head also tells me that some of this is my ever-constant worry about money (or the lack of it)...especially since I left the last of it in Atlanta getting everything Alix needs like Chemistry textbooks and computer cables.
The dread....absolute dread...of calling my mother tomorrow to ask her for yet ANOTHER handout. Hearing the disappointment in her voice.
I know tomorrow I will get up. I will start sorting through the things that fill this huge old house...the things that have made up the pieces of my life for thirty years. And I will decide what few things I want to keep. They are just “things” after all. They aren’t ME.
No...that’s pretty much 130 miles away in Atlanta. That’s where my heart is.
I don’t know if I can bear this pain. I really, really don’t know how I am going to survive this.
I know, somehow, I must.
It sounds so easy...Sell everything. Travel light. Start over. New life. I keep telling myself to hang in there....it’s gonna get better. I know it will. It has to.
But right now, I hurt. I hurt like I’ve never hurt in my life.
And so the little voice inside of me pats me on the back and says “write it down”. And post it.
Because somewhere out there in the big ol’ lonely world, someone else might be feeling just as lonely and sad as I do right now. And it may help an unknown someone somewhere to know that I’m out here in cyberspace, going through the same pain as they are.
I sure hope so. I hope it helps someone.
Cause this hurts like hell.
And I am desperately trying to remember that tomorrow, as Scarlett O’Hara says, is another day.
If my heart will just listen.