How We Are Grieving

-- This really is the last part of the Forgiveness piece.  I knew it would all have to come back to the kids. ---

"How We Are Grieving"

I.  Denial

Go home, Mom

I don't have much to say

Just go home

Look at you

Sitting around in London

And you hate London

And I know you hate London

And you're here

Asking me to tell you what to do

Well, I'm telling you

Go home

Go home already

It's been so long

I'm not here, Mom

I'm not in London

Why would I be in London?

You never even took me to London

You took me to Italy

You took me to Milan

But not London

Because I didn't want to go there

And I still don't

But here I am

Because here you are

Sitting in a hotel room

Waiting for Dad to come back

From whatever bar he's in

Looking for you

Because you're a drunk

Oops

Was I not supposed to say that?

Is it upsetting to hear?

Try watching it

It's torture

Those earrings

Are they mine?

Are you wearing my earrings?

Get them off

You can't wear my earrings

They look ridiculous on you

And wasn't I wearing them

When I was in the crash?

How on earth did you get them?

God, that's so morbid

Don't you know how morbid that is?

Get them off, for godsakes

You're like a woman possessed

And I don't know by you

Certainly not by me

Mother, please

Do us both a favor

Get Dad

Go to Italy

Have the pizza with the olives

And then go home

You're looking for me

Everywhere but where you know I'll be

And I don't know what the point of that is

Are you afraid to find me?

I'm not planning on haunting you, Mother

I'm not Casper

I'm not going to do parlor tricks

Make napkins dance or anything

I'd just like you to go home

Because you're tired

Because you're more than tired

Because you're exhausted

And it shows

Stop whispering prayers

Into stone walls in Jerusalem, Mother

I'm not there

Stop throwing bottles into the sea

The Dead Sea

The Red Sea

The Mediterranean

I'm not in any of them

Stop asking if I can hear you

On mountaintops

On cliffs overlooking metropolises

On rooftops in Bombay

Of course I can hear you

But that doesn't mean I want to listen

Everybody's telling you

Talk to Olivia

She'll listen

She hears you

She misses you

Well, I'm sorry, Mother

But I don't

I don't miss you

I'm dead

I'm happy

With the exception

Of having to come back here

And clean up your grief

I'm sorry you miss me

I'm sorry we didn't have more time together

I'm sorry I didn't drive that night

Not that it would have made any difference

I'm sorry you thought I'd be waiting for you somewhere

If you just looked hard enough

I'm nowhere, not everywhere

No matter what the self-help bullshitters might say

I'm nowhere, Mother

And it's a lovely place

So go home

I won't be there

But Dad will be

And that's more important

It's important to be with the people

Who are still around

And not chase after those

Who aren't anywhere

I kept hoping that one day you wouldn't find me

And you'd realize what you had to do

But I can't wait for that anymore

So instead I'm just telling you

Go home

Go home

Go home

I love you

But go home

II.  Anger

I almost walked by you

Isn't that scary?

My own mother

And I almost passed you

And kept going

What happened to you?

I'm supposed to be the dead one

Not you, Mom

Can I ask you a question?

Can I ask more than one?

Can I, Mom?

How many plates will you have to break?

How many screaming matches will you need to have?

How many nasty words?

How many horrible threats?

How many hurtful things?

How many, Mom?

Don't think that my love is unconditional

Just because I'm not here to monitor you

You can still upset me

You can still annoy me

You can still disgust me

That's all still possible

When you hold onto that anger

You're not holding me

You're pushing me away

At this point

I would even use the word shoving

The truth is

You love being angry

More than you ever loved me

That intensity that drives you

That keeps you up at night

That seduces you into thinking

That you're doing okay

Has eclipsed any sort of feeling

That you had for me

I don't care if you forgive Paul

For crashing into me that night

I don't care if you forgive Dad

For forgiving Paul

I don't even care if you forgive yourself

For becoming someone

Your own son wouldn't even recognize

But I do care about pictures

I care about the ones on the mantel

The ones of you and me and Dad

Back when you were still someone

I was proud to call my mom

If you can't be that person again

Then take those pictures down

And bury them like you buried me

If you won't allow for the possibility

That things could be good again

That they could get better

That you could get past his

Then bury it all

Just bury it

But don't stare at my pictures

And call me your son

If you're not going to be the woman

Who raised that son

Who raised him to be kind

And loyal

And forgiving

If that's not possible

Then I might as well have been a dream

My whole life

Up to the moment

Of that crash

Might as well have been nothing at all

If you can convince yourself

That it's possible to be so hateful

And still hold onto me

Then anything should seem possible

Shouldn't it?

I love you, Mom

But I'm so mad at you

Right now

I don't want to be anywhere near you

III.   Bargaining

Bad news, Dad

It turns out

That the whole

Eye for an eye thing

Is complete bullshit

Oh

And there are homos up here

Lots of them

And interracial couples

And atheists

And even no aborted fetuses

Although it's possible

That I just haven't seen them yet

This is heaven

This is my heaven, Dad

Maybe it's not yours

But I'm having a great time

And the woman you killed is up here

The woman you never told me about

She's here

And she forgives you

But you know what?

I don't

Perhaps if you'd been a loving

Tender father

I'd be able to get past what you did

But the fact

That you got up on a pedestal

And stayed up there

My entire life

Is a little more

Than I can forgive

When you add it to vehicular homocide

Are you surprised

That it's possible

To be spiteful

In heaven?

I suppose wonders never cease

Stop trying to make deals with God

It's gone from devotion

To obsessive compulsion disorder

'If I touch this light switch three times

I'll be able to spend eternity with my daughter.'

It doesn't work that way

Would you like to hear

How it does work?

Hug your son

When he says he hates you

Tell your wife she's beautiful

When she gains four pounds

Thank God you had a daughter

For as long as you did

And thank Him again

That she has a very, very long time

To get past what a horrible father you were

Do those things

Do them often

And you'll even be able

To skip a few Sundays

Life is full of injustices

And they don't get made right

Just because you get to heaven

They're just one more thing to laugh at

That you never thought you'd laugh at

I love you, Dad

Because I can't help it

But even angels have memories

And mine are so heavy

I feel like they're going to pull me down

Down so far

I might fall right out of heaven

IV.  Depression

Your honor

I would like to testify

On behalf of my parents

Unfortunately I'm unable to do so

Because I am deceased

Still

I would like to suggest

That you allow my parents

To divorce

As soon as possible

They have stopped making each other happy

They have stopped having relations of any kind

They have stopped having a life together

And as someone who no longer lives

I can't tell you how much that pisses me off

I would like you to free them

From their legal binding

And assure you

That it will in no way

Prohibit them from being with me someday

God does not want any of us

To be miserable

Life, as they say, is short

And sometimes marriages must be as well

I want this divorce

So that my Dad

Can jump in his car

And drive as far as he wants to

I want him to get his cabin

On a lake somewhere

Surrounded by giant trees

And mountains

I want him to fish

I want him to chop wood

I want him to camp twice a year

With men he calls friends

Who understand him

And what he's lost

I want my mother

To move to the city

And marry a rich man

Who can show her the world

I want her to shop

I want her to get plastic surgery

Until she looks like she's always wanted to

Even though she's always been perfect

I want her to get her nails done

I want her to spend too much on jewelry

I want her to walk on a beach when she turns seventy

I want her to develop a lovely addiction to something

And have it keep her warm

After her husband leaves her

And she gets it all in the divorce

Because by that time

She'll know how to pick a good lawyer

Your Honor

I had wonderful parents

But without me to parent

There's not much left

That's wonderful

I ask you to free them

From their joint grief

And let them be people again

Rather than just my parents

Let them be the caretakers

Of their own lives

Rather than the gatekeepers

Of my unnecessary legacy

I love them, your Honor

And seeing them so depressed

Is more difficult

Than you can understand

They'll never be able to let me go

Unless they let each other go first

V.  Acceptance

Somewhere

There are four teenagers

Sitting on a bench

At a train station

Waiting for someone

They look across the tracks

At another bench

Where another young man is waiting

And they're not sure who he is

They don't speak to each other

But they stay close

And when the train finally arrives

They board separate cars

They came to do something

They all had a task

A process

That had to be undertaken

In order to handle their grief

Now they could return

From whence they came

Their baggage still held

Tightly in their hands

But perhaps a little lighter

Perhaps a bit more manageable

None of them went to see Paul

Because only Paul can see Paul

He doesn't need to see them anyway

He'll be with them soon

The misconception would be

That they don't miss anything

That they don't feel anything

That they are fine

That everything is fine

But the truth is more complicated

And why wouldn't it be?

Isn't it always?

They are grieving

But they are competent

They are forgiving

But they are angry

They are atoning

But they are stubborn

They are saddened

But they are grateful

They are gone

But they are glorious

But mostly

They are hopeful

And hope

Hope is complicated