Blah, BLah, BLOG
Ever just lie in bed and wonder, you dig into your memory bank and try to figure out what was real or imagined? For years I have these flashbacks that haunts me when I am awake and dreams that awakens me with fear and tears. My dreams are so vivid that I still remember them even after nearly 50 years. How do you determine what is real? What I can tell you is my feelings are real, my fears, anxiety and sadness is real. Every day I have these feelings, it haunts me. What happened so many years ago? I remember so many happy childhood moments, as a family we did so much camping, hiking, skiing, sailing and a lot of star gazing. Happy days. We were a family always on an adventure, never a dull moment. So why is it so difficult to retrieve memories that are unwanted? Did I shield them with armour to protect my sanity?
Muddled memories, mom crying, signing and talking because at the time I was not really talking and at that time was discovered recently that I have moderate to severe hearing loss. New to a hearing aid, I had often threw them out of my ear because the world was too loud. I remember crying, rocking myself to sleep. Afraid of the dark (like most kids), I would not go to sleep unless the hall light was on, bedroom door was open wide, and my cat on my bed. It must of been a frustrating bedtime ritual for mom, especially having to find our cat. I would sometimes cry till Tammy (cat) came into my room. Every night for years I would rock and bang my head till I fall asleep, it was like I was trying to forget something and tiring myself so I could finally fall asleep. Even did this into my early teens. How can one have grown up in such a happy childhood with great support of my family and be so conflicted? I do not understand, I don't remember why mom was crying, all I know, something had happened.
Now only just recently, some stories shared amongst family, me still not knowing what the story is as it was not described to me in detail. I do not want details, I didn't need details and yet, my memories are confusing to me. All I know is my family loves me and protects me, and would never hurt me. But who did? That is a mystery that hopefully one day be solved, and I have regrets that I didn't pursue this sooner.
My mother was diagnosed with lung cancer and before our last Christmas dinner together, had announced that she has cancer. Hope, there is hope mom had said, three months later she died, in the hospital (which was the last place where she wanted to be dying). During those three months, I had spent a lot of time with my mom (we were very close), we talked very deeply about love, religion and life. During those months, I had wanted to talk to mom about my childhood haunts, I wanted an answer. I looked at her, weak, lying in bed wearing a soft cap on her head (she lost all her hair during chemo),I just couldn't ask her the question. I could not bear her to suffer more than she already has. I so desperately wanted to ask her what she had asked me that day. Whatever she knew of that time, her burdens was taken with her, it was her last selfless act she had done for our family. She protected us right till her very last breath.
Now, sixteen years later, my dad is now eighty and not well. Again, I am wanting to seek answers, the quest for peace of mind. Again, I can't do it. Why should my father suffer as he is suffering enough. But I do know this, I will have answers, it will all come back to me one day, or maybe someone will tell me. Some one knows something...
To Whom it May Concern: Be brave, have the courage to tell me, no matter how bad it is. I am strong and this will not break me. Peace will be with you as it will with me.