It was once a beautiful wide open space of possibility. But the losses have pilled up and needed a place to stay. Forever remembered, always visited. One day a tombstone went up. And then another came along. And Another, and another. Not all the loses were deaths, but they were loses all the same. A twist in the path, changed direction that you cannot change. But then a tiny urn was placed inside it. And though physically small, it made the cemetery a permanent place. A hallowed ground.
It's much like a cemetery you can visit, but its not up kept like those of today. Time is moving both too fast, and too slow. It looks like the cemetery's of yesteryears. The one's long abandoned. Overgrown with memories made, and the ones that I saw, but will never come to be. Aged beyond recognition. I feel that way about my own appearance too, often not recognizing myself in physical and mental ways. The wisdom lines on my face now deeper than the smile lines that used to be renewed so often. My face is a well worn map of this place.
Its a place of ghosts, and empty futures. Missing people, and broken hearts. Unsaid things, and whispered dreams. All things that you can no longer hold. The only emotion is despair. Because even if happiness finds its way in for a fleeting moment, its either a reminder of the emotion joy, which truly doesn't exist right now. Or it brings guilt with it, and only guilt remains after the happiness fades. So it's always despair, a complete absence of hope. If this sounds depressing, it might be hitting home, when was the last time you went to a cemetery and it wasn't depressing. I live in that cemetery now though. I don't get to leave, these solid gates locking me inside.
I once believed in the "when one door closes, another opens," but these gates that slammed behind me are like the bars of a prison cell. You can still see in, and I remember what it was like on that side. I can see it through the hazy memories of, "before May 20." It's a place with only one entryway. It doesn't have walls, its endless, and yet I cannot leave. Another one will not open. I get the distinct honor of living here forever.
Its like living in a dream. One that you know is also a nightmare. You are aware enough to know. But no matter how hard you try, you cannot wake up from it. Which is a weird sensation. One I catch myself in too many times. Thinking, sometimes screaming, "how did I get here." Reality is so unbelievable that it's easier to imagine this was all make believe, than to wrap my mind around the idea that this is my life now. This is my life always. I will always have a dead baby. I will always have a daughter that no one can see. I will carry trauma that strangers have no idea about, when they see me doing every day things. A silent curse.
But also like cemeteries, they start with one, and grow. Filled with strangers who become friendly faces. A fixture in your life that is startling at first, but becomes a daily sight. In this place that you made yours but opened to the public. And you realize that even though you live here now, others also live here too. A welcoming community that no one wants to join. They become the people you depend on. They water the flowers at your gravesite on the days you have nothing left to give. They are the ones who hold you as you cry over tiny urns together. And they are the ones who also cannot ever leave. So you know they will be there always.
A cemetery is a place that exists because we love people long after they are gone. Its comforting for the living to visit. Necessary but not wanted. Its a beautiful mix of remembrance and pain. And the thing is, everyone walks through those gates eventually. Whether you are the unwilling visitor or the long lost name on the tombstones.
with love, lissa