Sunday, October 2, 2016
Autumnal Rhythm, Jackson Pollock. One of my favorite works of art. Fall is here and it has caught me by surprise. The house is suddenly dressed in gold and rust, pumpkin spice fills the air, and flickering candles glow warmly. These comforting beats, quietly stir a memory from deep within the fog of this illness and it awakes. Plump orange pumpkins, bursting mums, little white ghosts hanging from our tree, and lazy cooking afternoons with the calls of football filtering in from the living room. The memory slowly awakens and sadness fills my heart as an earlier time of peace and joy and autumn is brought back in to my consciousness. This weekend I am finding some painful comfort in these small details as the big details of our world crush me under their weight.
How remarkable the human condition is, adaptable to every situation in every moment, as if it always has been so. To make normal whatever new circumstance is thrust upon it. The unthinkable, the unbearable, miraculously bearable when you find yourself in it. Thoughts of life before are safely tucked away for another time when remembering won't be so painful. I've heard prisoners of war say they had to force themselves to remember one small detail of the world they had lost. The mind, instinctively protecting them from painful memories, tried to convince them that this life in a small dark cell had always been the norm. Wired for survival, a mind sometimes has to forget because remembering would be too painful. We put aside the past for the present and we press on. One day at a time. Adjusting our minds. Adjusting our expectations. Remembering only when we have the will and energy to feel the sorrow for what is lost. The sorrow, in those quite moments, is soul crushing.
Right now I will not remember the details. I will only remind myself that there was another time when my daughter was happy, carefree, and childlike. These comforts of home, warm, golden, spice-filled scents, whisper to a far away place in my mind of a better time. So I take some painful comfort in remembering, but not too much. Hopefully before pumpkins give way to evergreens I will embrace all our memories without sorrow, adjusting to life without this monster once again. Until then, I force myself to be grateful for where we are today because beneath all the pain, I treasure all I have and all we are. Love, strength, and hope.
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