“Memory is the enemy of wonder,
which abides nowhere else but in the present.
This is why, unless you are a child,
wonder depends on forgetting. – on a process,
that is, of subtraction.”
– Michael Pollan, The Botany of Desire
The waves wash loose shells and rocks, dead fish and scuttling crabs. Deposits of tiny broken shells are interupted with other stretches of hard-packed sand. In between there is the deep dry sand, almost as impossible to walk through as snow.
But these long morning beach walks loosen the immaterial as well. Memories fall out in step with my feet as they sink into the tidal sand, and then fall away again as I reach another stretch of shells.
Kevin walks beside me, as lost in his thoughts as I am in mine.
I try to let go of the thoughts as they arise, trying to remain present. Otherwise, like a rogue wave, there can be a fleeting moment of panic; a premonition of all that can go wrong, removing all the wonder of the present.
Following these future thoughts asks too much of me, while the past can too often bring its own peculiar despair…
Because mostly…what I’m trying to avoid is thinking about my sister living out her life in a lousy motel room. I try so hard not to think of her on her birthday or at Christmas, alone in a dingy room near the Abbotsford highway.
Instead, I continue to walk, here in the present, to remain grateful for physical and mental health, for the ability to keep moving. I try not to wish for things I cannot have. I cannot make my sister well. I cannot rescue her from herself and her habits.
I used to think I could. For so long I was the hero to her victim. It hadn’t always been that way. When I was still in elementary school, she was the older, teenaged sister I admired. At some point our roles flipped and I became her rescuer.
Too many years later, I finally came to realize I could barely save myself, never mind deluding myself that I could save her.
But I was raised to be guilty and though I am so much better than I used to be, guilt is too often a default state; guilt for all my past sins of not caring enough and guilt for all my future sins of remaining silent while she remains alone.
I still harbour a secret fantasy…in it, Rhonda and I are hanging out in a cafe, and oh man, we’re laughing so hard, just like we used to. And that, that is what I miss the most. I miss that sister who has long ago disappeared and been replaced by someone I no longer recognize.
We were a team, united against the rigid lines of religion and parents determined to keep us on the tight and narrow. Our oldest sister Diane, had moved out. It was only Rhonda and me. With constant laughter, Rhonda rescued me from Dad’s anger, shared my frustration with Mom’s sadness.
But all that is in the past. Mom was long ago silenced by death. Dad too.
Thankfully, I still have Diane.
But the last time I saw Rhonda was at Dad’s funeral. Of everything from that day, I remember Rhonda’s eyes the most. They were dark holes that revealed no one behind their glittering shine.
Love can be as twisted and strangling as ropes of seaweed knotted on the shore. I wish it were different. I wish I could be stronger in her presence, to not be bothered by her manipulations, hurtful words and bitter anger.
But then I ask myself, why? Why would I want to subject myself to all of that again?
Instead, I pay attention to the shore. I listen to the waves.
And I am thankful for what is before me, right here, right now.
Colleen, my memory of you is your smile, gregarious and infectious laughter. It always brings a smile to my face and I am sure there is a glimpse of that when Rhonda thinks of you! Thanks for always sharing your “pure” self.
What a kind thought Kelly. I hope you’re right. Thank you.
I always smile when I think of you, so thanks for my first smile of the morning ????
Oh Colleen- how very tragic. I am so sorry to hear this about Rhonda. It is so hard to imagine how people end up in these situations. Right now I know too many people who have adult children that are going down this path and the path is all that much more dangerous in my own opinion. Feeling guilt is a sign of compassion, you have so much of it! Thank you for being so brave and sharing this story.
Lorna. I have never thought of guilt as a sign of compassion. Thanks for that…it helps to reframe it it with that idea.
I have come to realize that this isn’t just Rhonda’s story but that it is my story to tell too, especially in light of all the tragic stories of addiction that unfolding right now. Thank you for your kind words. They really help.
Colleen I feel so sorry for your sister and the way you feel about her.
I also have an older sister. I remember her taking me to school. She was responsible. I was disobedient and spoiled as I was the youngest and was also suffering from childhood anemia.
Now I never see my sister. She has decided that she didn’t want to have anything to do with her family who has always been loving and caring. Sometimes I think of her and wonder how she is doing. What saddens me the most is that now that we have time on our hands, we could have travelled together and cared for each other, but it is not to be. So the best way I can cope with this is to ignore her existence as seeing her, I know, would be a very painful experience.
Oh Catherine. That is so hard. So many broken connections…we all are carrying something eh?
Wishing you peace and grace with it all. I keep working with the practise of non-attachment – to let go of how I think it ‘should be’ and let it be exactly how it is.
Take care.
If only we could have those moments back, just for an hour. A day, even. Wouldn’t that be great? Keep those memories close. It’s something, right? Don’t pick up that guilt … it’s not yours to carry.
XO
Bless you Gwen. I have let so much of that guilt go but I’m not always successful at ridding myself of it all. But yes, good memories are the key. Thanks for the reminder????
Colleen
We can not change the past. We cannot save other people.
Yet you have. How you have helped me!!!!
I encourage you to focus your thoughts on Cory, Sean, Carma, Makaesha, Avery, True, Preston. And now your friend’s children. THESE are your legacy!!! The waves cannot wash these amazing stories away.
Blessings to you Bruce. There is no doubt I feel very blessed and grateful and I know that each of us has something that isn’t the exact way we’d like it to be. Some days that fact just feels I little harder take than on other days. The good news? There’s always another day (we’ll, until there isn’t, but you know what I mean).
Thanks for always being in my corner cousin ❤