I think that my life is an illusion.
But life itself is an illusion. Things never seem as they are. There always seems to be a back story, or something beneath the surface, something like a microscopic nuisance that pics away at the pure essence of life.
For every good moment, there is a life changing experience. For every life changing experience there is a challenge. My illusion: Tuesday's death; him coming home.
My world has once again stopped and I am forced to think about that moment in time where everything was right, reminiscing on the good times that we shared-my life complete. Just when my family was coming together, seemingly, it turned once again for the worst. And now, in the worst kind of way, I am throwing my hands up in defeat, not caring about what happens next.
When I got the phone call about Tuesday dying that night, the first thing that popped in my mind was what did her husband have to do with her dying. I don't know why I thought that. I don't know why it came to me, but I am so intuitive it's scary. The week before Tuesday died I woke up out of a bad dream. My dreams are vivid. They are realistic. So realistic I can smell the scent, I can touch items and remember what they felt like, and the irony of all of this is that all of my dreams come true.
The week before she died I had a dream. I had on my Charcoal gray slacks, my white/navy blue stripped button down shirt, my wool jacket and a matching scarf. I was at a funeral. The casket was off to the right of where everyone was sitting. I couldn't see faces, I was in the same spot I sat in at Tuesdays funeral. I woke myself up because I didn't want to know what was going to happen. But as soon as I sat down that day, in the chapel, I knew exactly where I was and I knew that I had only dreamt about this the week before...
Yesterday I got the worst news of my life. For the last 6 months I've been under the illusion that Tuesday died of a Sickle Cell induced heart attack. But I got a call from an anonymous source that told me to meet them at a particular location-because they had something that they couldn't hold in anymore. I met them, and to my surprise they had a letter written by Tuesday a week before she died.
In the letter she vividly described the disdain of her marriage, and how unhappy her life had become. She suspected her husband of 12 years of had been cheating-she was looking for a way out and that she was scared.
A week later, she was dead, no autopsy and cremated three days later. How about that for closure.
That was the worst news of the day...I canceled my book tour dates and my appearances. I am not in the mind frame to accept what I read, and to imagine for so long that she lived her last days being unhappy and scared. Knowing that, chills me to the core.
I thought about how she put her own goals aside for that man and her children-but she constantly drilled me to make a life for myself and in essence, not make the same mistake that she did. Now that I know what she meant by saying that to me over and over-I started to think about all of the other things that she told me and now the pieces of life are coming together in an eerily, demented way. I think that she wanted her life to be perfect for her children. Perfect in the sense that there were two parents in their household, unlike hers. She wanted them to be smart, and love each other, unlike she and her brother. She wanted them to understand family values and what it meant to have a family, unlike her family, and for that price, I am sure she paid her life-in more ways than one.
But that wasn't all that threw me off...After driving around today and contemplating my move to cut myself off from the world, I got a call from Marks dad. I knew right away that something was wrong-because not only was his tone off, but he hadn't called me personally since Mark had come home.
His father was very upset from the gate that Mark and me picked up our relationship, not missing a beat, right where it left off when we were teenagers. He even tried to deter Mark from hanging out with me to spend more time with him. His dad was paranoid that I would put Mark in the line of danger, and possibly get him caught up in a situation where he would violate his parole. I was offended-I am not a social misfit. I mean I talk shit, but I know when to hush up.
He was so adamant about him not hanging out at my house...Where he knew he would be safe, but he let him hang out with one of his friends from before he went to jail.
72 hours later Mark is gone from my life...Again.
Was this moment an illusion? Am I in a dream? Right when I thought that I was on my way to be complete, I was emptied, stopped dead in my tracks-just like the night that my father died, the day that my grandmother was murdered, the day that Tuesday died. The day I died. Today when I got that phone call...
I'm glad I got the moment to take a picture so I can relive our moments forever.