Vanessa The Vivacious

A little over 2 months ago, my soters (son/daughter(trans kid))  mom past away. It’s still an adjustment, still even after 65 some odd days. So you know, grieving the death of your kid’s bio mom/ husbands ex-wife/mother of his child has been...has been...like staring at the essence of sadness through a multifaceted diamond cut just for you; no particular reason or occasion. And it’s not the diamond that’s flawed.. it’s seeing your flaws through your actions and words both during and after. I would like to think that I’ve been graceful but lord knows that I’ve been anything but.  At times I’ve been overbearing, critical, opinionated, or just darn smothering. Has anyone ever asked what the grieving process is for a stepmom or stepdad; they should. There really is nothing out there to prepare you for this. You’re watching and caring for your kid and husband going through separate grief processes, trying not to interject as to tarnish or compromise their unique process for grief...I believe it’s called being respectful. You spend so much time taking care of them and anticipating their needs that you get a little catty...a little snarky...ok darn right bitchy.  You do all the paperwork and arranging because only a select few know how.. you, GOD, and probably one of your house pets. ( Husbands, it’s really not that hard..)  But I digress...  In my industry of work, I come across casualties fairly regularly and until now, I was able to be completely neutral and help the grieving party so eloquently and compassionately. Now those wonderful skills are kicked in the shins by anxiety and a small hint of sadness.  For the most part, I’ve known death to be of natural causes...only two real tragic deaths...now three, wait for four. Or maybe now it’s more real how many there really were because one just happened..   I’m afraid that If I took time to really examine what’s happening, come to terms with all of the multiple grieving storms going on around me.. I’d be that scene in Braveheart where William Wallace (Gibson) falls down when he sees Robert DeBruce on the other side and just gives up...doesn’t get up despite what's on the horizon.

Things can be a lot worse and I thank GOD that it’s not..my husband thanks the sentient beings and Bhuddah, my stoter thanks nothing and everything as he is still trying to figure that out too in addition to his sexuality.

I just want to be done with the paperwork, be there every time he has a wave of grief, be revered and respected for all I do both at home and away from home and be able to sleep at night..and lose 100 lbs.  Is that too much to ask???

Finally home at a decent time to make dinner for my kid,  it feels great to be able to do that again. He says he misses my cooking because he loves it; what a moment. 

Finally getting to be the mom I always wanted to be. I did not birth him but I gave him so much love he never saw a dividing line between me and his bio mom. He is truly the greatest thing my husband brought into this world. Hoping we have one of our own one day but kind of weary because of the world we live in. It used to be my train of thought that a baby would only slow you down in the apocalypse.. but now.. my thought is - yikes, what a shit world to be brought into at this time..the kid will do one of two things: a) try to crawl back in after taking one gaze around the delivery room or b) automatically have a grudge against me for their entire life and one day say “ gee thanks mom, what the hell were you thinking bringing me here”..

I’m wondering if one day it will be difficult and the memory of my kids’ mom (she is deceased as of 16 days now) will be invoked when I’m reprimanding my kid. I don’t think that will happen, but you never know; teenagers- go figure!

Picture it, Sicily 1926... jk (couldn’t resist).. and if you don’t get it- you need to check in with your parents or get help because you missed some serious comedic timing and talent.  Moving on, I want to tell you a story. Much like 92% of my life stories, it is a tale of sad circumstances and events that make everyone else but me say “WTF” and “how are you here right now to tell the tale”.. but I digress. 

    When I was in elementary school we had a special guest speaker. He was tall, serious, elegant, he was an adult; most importantly he was a real life author. Naturally I grabbed the closest seat on the  “magic carpet” and listened as intently as a child could as I was listening to what I had hoped would be “future me”.  After reading his own works and discussing his accolades, he said the following words that scarred me for life and took the ground beneath my feet. The author said : “ Do Not Ever Become A Writer. Don’t Do It. You Will Never Be Successful And You Will Never Make Money Or Earn A Living As A Writer”.

     And just like that, I swallowed my dream and felt it stew in my tummy as the digestive juices broke down my dream of being a writer. I was so so crushed. I walked out of that library with the same gate of a widow.  Ever since that fateful day, I wrote here and there but I never again dreamed of being an author, a wordsmith, a literary puppet master tugging at the strings of your heart and imagination whilst also search this world for meaning and clarity within the blunders of my life.

        What would have become of me had I been absent that day? We’ll never know but what we do know is what we will become today and everyday after that.  So here we are. I vow to write everyday and exercise my inner writer. I will flesh out writings and scripts and make the films I was meant to make. I’ll write the musicals and plays, the speeches, presentations, the milestone celebratory toasts in future. I realize that there are so many moments in my life where my ambitions, dreams and beliefs were taken from me at the hand of someone else’ words and actions. How tragic, how sad, and its taken me years to be able to say HOW ABSURD. I’m not a victim of my past or circumstances. I stopped allowing others to hold be me back because of the color of my skin when I was 14. Now at 34.. they won’t keep my dreams, hopes, aspirations and goals Not One Moment Longer.

Cruel World, I forgive you.