366 Days and Counting: Remembering Grand..

celluar key tone. 210.337.5834. silence. ring. sound of phone being removed from cradle. gasp. loss of breath. heart thump. sweat forming. heartbeat. slow unsteady. beat heart. beat. sweat beading down back of neck. breathe. "the number or code you have dialed is incorrect. please check the number......" dial-tone. hands shake. eyes tear. deep breath. quicken heartbeat. breathe. after a year, no one has her number. everything is okay.

grand it has been 366 days, some hours and seconds since you've been gone. yesterday, 09.11.05, to avoid 911 stories and not deal with missing you, i watched hbo family thru restless attempts to nap to escape my sadness and depression. at times, the voices from shark tales, brought an occasionally feebled smirk to my masked expression. i screened most calls, as there were only two voices i longed for. one of which was yours, the other, the voice of god and his presence thru another human being. i slept on the couch most of the day as hurt people do. possibly from an exaggerated sense of grief and loneliness. possibly an attempt to not deal with the reality of the day. sleeping on the couch and sleeping the day away, both of which, i know you would frown upon.

i remember how i would tease you with a weak impersonation of aunt thelma calling you "maug" or great grand's "ma'ga'reet" ? i wondered if you knew i could hear and feel your smile over the phone as you would say "whatisitkim?" or "is that my first grandchild?" and happy it made me? or maybe you did know which was why you went along with it every conversation. when i awoke this morning, i wanted desperately to hear you play that game with me. so i slept hoping that somehow my dreams would bring me closer to you.

the last year has been difficult, yet i have grown. i drink less and talk more than ever. no, not that childhood bantering to amuse others and myself. i talk now to escape. somehow believing if i talk enough i wouldn't miss you. that if i talk enough i would solve my problems. talk long enough i would address my issues. talk so much that i believe that i may find the strength of your voice in another. talk so much that i wouldn't need another. talk as not to listen. talk so much that sometimes i have forgotten what i was going to say next... i have talked so much the last year, that people have actually forgotten the odd kim, the one who seldom spoke to anyone. the one whose phone hardly rang aside from family. the one who refers to adrienne and terry as best friends, having made few true lasting ones in my adultlife cuz i just don't know how to trust. the one who stayed home most nights outside of wednesday nights. the one who they believe they know, but know very little. funny, huh? the exercise of select memory. they don't know what you've always known. that i am the loneliest when surrounded by others and the insecurities of being "visible" eat away at me. you know how i've never liked a lot of attention, except from people i love. my tongue continues to get me into trouble. no, grand. i have not learned to chose my battles wisely, and i still build and climb mole hills disguised as mountains. i still love HARD, and i have found someone whom i love, dearly. i still pace when i'm nervous. i kept my locks. i stopped pulling at them, too. i still would rather sever a relationship than to deal with the issues, even if i'm the source. and yes, i still search for ways to eliminate most people as not to deal with the disappointment. i'm still working on a personal relationship with god and arguing religion. and yes, i still engage in that pensive piercing gaze listening, looking at no one, but seeing every one and thing. i keep it because that's all mom left me. but you know this. you know that i cling to black and white fibers from a worn picture, searching for her in me. that connection was you. now you're gone.

i did get up after one call, and i spent the afternoon in perfect company, companionship that was so essential and desperately needed. it felt good. some would have spent the day convincing me that you are in a better place. something stupid said, designed and oft believed to bring me comfort. the sarcastic side of me would ask, "howdahelldouknow?". truth is i don't know and neither do they. i didn't have to deal with that. but i did think about how you are no longer physically here, and that, selfishly i need you to be here, on the other end of my phoneline. i need you to tell me "everything is gonna be okay. grand is here. you can always come home." HOME. that word has been foreign to me for a year. the matrons in my village have transcended. and grand, some days i swear there are restless savages hiding behind vacant huts, waiting, plotting, my failure. i don't believe i have the strength, and on those days i need you. i need your physical self to chase them away. i need someone who understands enough to help me, even if they are figments of my imagination. so i muster the strength to stand tall and guard a village described in our million tongued tale spoken between tongue and cheek. It is a combination of our stories, told in a collective voice and it always begin with: there is a village that lies just outside my soul. where the blood of my pen and the ink of my heart connect. it flows thru my body, pump words to an ever flowing well... it is there that the matrons of my village replenish me, nurture me, protect me, guide me and sustain me thru this lifetime.. they are me, and i am we...