Wrong (ip)

I wrote this almost a month ago, never remembered to put it someplace to be seen. A mistake. I make a lot of those. And still, all of it hardly seems to matter now. The world is falling apart, they are nearly as gone as before…ALL of them. And there is nothing I can do. I am powerless, broken, and lost.

Generally, I despise being proven wrong. It irritates me. When I come to a conclusion, a decision, or make a choice it’s usually after a great deal of thought. Generally, I hate being wrong.

Today I don’t. Which is…odd? Maybe not. I don’t know. I’m sort of…torn? About many things, really.

I’m…finally, maybe almost sure of what my path is, for the moment. I don’t know–I feel…sure of what I’m hoping to do. I also expect resistance. I expect it will be a struggle, and that there will be dissent…arguments…I don’t know. But yet, if it was easy, I suspect it wouldn’t be worth doing.

And then there’s them. They…exist. They live. If it wasn’t so serious it might be funny. The last time I wrote I was sure they were dead. And so, I’m glad I was wrong. I’m thrilled to say that I’m wrong.

I don’t know what to do. In a way I’m still sad, angry, upset. I missed so many things. I missed never sleeping. I missed all of the things I was struggling to be prepared for. Twins. Twin infants, and I missed it. They’re still babies, of course, but almost a year old. A year at the end of this month. Almost toddlers. But…complaining about that seems so petty, so whiny, given that I can HOLD THEM. Given that I have held my son in my arms while he sleeps and given that even now I can reach over and rub my daughter’s back when she fusses and can’t sleep. It’s…beyond anything I expected, after what happened.

Still…it feels like he doesn’t want them. Or rather, it feels like EVERYONE doesn’t want them to be back. I expected…I don’t know. I expected joy, a hug at least. Some kind of rejoicing. And instead they’ve all just sort of…I don’t know. Been disbelieving. I don’t know. I don’t know what I was hoping for, but somehow this isn’t everything I was imagining.

And again, I shouldn’t complain. Perhaps I’m just…never content. I don’t know.

I don’t know a lot of things, right now.

But I know I need to try. I know that I shouldn’t give up, ever. And I know, I KNOW that when there is something I feel, something I believe, I have to at least try.

Beginning (ip)

They’re gone forever. I’ve said good bye. Now the grieving can begin.

Now we have a break. We have the time I’ve been promising. We’ve been promising each other. The time to remember how to love each other again. Can you do that? If I walk towards you, can you walk towards me? I want to try–will you try with me?

We’ve been broken. We’re battered, but healing has to start somewhere. Together I think we can start.

The third age is beginning. We knew it would, win or lose it had to. I don’t know what it will mean, I don’t know what will come. I know that I want you by my side when it does. Will you be? Will you join me?

I am…I don’t know. I don’t know anymore what I am, but I am ready to start to breathe. Ready to cry, to admit that I failed and that is okay, and that I will never be the same.

But how is that new or different? With every breath we will never be the same. Each new day, I will never be the same. Some changes are large, some small. But nothing is ever the same.

Losing them, it was terrible. It tore my heart out, put marks on my soul that will never leave. It changed me deeply, it was a bing change moment. I will always love them, my dead children. They are dead–that I am sure of. I will always love them anyway. But I can begin to let them go to their rest now.

Still…I think I may always fear the dark, always fear being left behind, left alone with nothing, trapped away from all of it. My heart is broken, and when breaks heal there are scars.

Take my hand, let’s begin, let’s find the future. The past has shaped us, now begin the journey with me, survive, LIVE, thrive with me. I know we can, if we allow ourselves.

Remembering (IP)

I found this today, it’s just right. For now. I put in their names.

In the rising of the sun, and in its going down,
We will remember Devin and Aryn.
In the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring,
We will remember Devin and Aryn.
In the blueness of the sky and in the warmth of summer,
We will remember Devin and Aryn.
In the beginning of the year, and when it ends,
We will remember Devin and Aryn.

I still want them back. I still ache. It’s been months, the world keeps going, from fall into winter and spring and now beginning the heat of summer. When does it stop? When do I get to talk about it?

Where are you? Do you ever think these things? I still wonder about just joining them, you know?

I never got to kiss them, and I hate myself for it every day. When does that get fixed? When does the wonderful, amazing, magical fix for all the problems sweep in and make this better? Aren’t we supposed to be heroes? If we are, why can’t we fix this?

A Realization (ip)

Other than the burning desire to claw my veins open, I’ve had a few thoughts of late.

There will be more soon, but suffice to say that my endless frustration is reaching new heights and I need to be saved from myself before I self destruct.

What is lost (ip)

I still get that sick twisting in my belly when I think about them. Still feel my heart breaking, and feel the sudden, jerking emptiness that wrenches me outside myself.

It doesn’t pass. It only becomes a part of me.

I talk to them everyday, while I fall asleep. I whisper the nightsongs I would sing, I whisper stories and tell them I love them. I don’t think they hear me, but it makes me feel like a better mother to pretend they do.

I can spiral down the “what if” path easily enough. There are a lot of questions. But no changing what is done, no matter how much I question it.

“I’ll love you forever. Forever and always. And sure as the tide always turns in the sea, you are my babies and always will be.”

I wish we knew how to talk about them. But when they are mentioned, we both turn away, insisting on being alone in the loss of our children. I wish I know how to change that.

I keep struggling to find ways to bring them back, to hold them again. But each day that passes, another day without them, the hurt becomes more a part of me. I slowly realize that even if they came back, I would still hold this pain, it has grown roots into my heart, and I start to wonder if those roots are part of what is healing the break.

In one breath I was expecting to see my children, to kiss them and hold them close. I was pushing away the pain of that knife with that thought. I was thinking of bringing them to their father, and seeing him smile. In the next breath, I was on the ground they had been jerked out of my arms, and their father, my mate, was gone from me as well. I went from a moment of anticipation and small fears into a nightmare of being alone with my terror. Just a breath. And they were all gone. I wanted my heart to stop. I wanted to forget, to not know it had happened, but at the same time I needed to remember everything.

Eventually, they all three came back to me–and none of them were the same.

He came back first, and he pushed me away. I wanted to be together in our pain, and he wanted nothing to do with me, only to blame himself. Slowly that has passed–but still it isn’t the same. I know it can’t be, but I want…something. We have duties, to be sure, but those duties feel more and more like excuses to avoid being close than like something that must be done in this instant.

When they returned, he was not with me. He did not see them. But I did. I begged them, I did all I could, and they didn’t want me. They didn’t want what I could offer. And I hurt them. I had to. It would have been treason not to. Who gives that choice to a mother? Kill your children or it’s treason. And I did my duty. But I don’t know where they went. I don’t know what happened. They were just suddenly gone. Aryn fell under my weapon, and Devin was just…not there.

So now here I am. Whispering songs at night, wishing and hoping they would hear. I’d rather have them come back, even dangerous as they were, and try once more to save them than just not know. Are they dead? Are they gone? Will they come back when I don’t expect it? Should I fear that they will take my other children? Will I find myself suddenly having lost everything to the Emptiness? In grief and pain I thought I had, once. Now I see how much as been left for me, and I fear it will be taken too.

So I dream of their return, and I hope I will hold them one day.

Devin and Aryn,

My smallest, my youngest, my most feared for and dreamed of children, and how I wanted to hold you. I wished for you, I fought for you. And I smiled for you.

I was afraid, I was afraid for you. But still, you brought me such joy. I promised you life, I promised to give you the best I could, and I lost you. I’m sorry.

I never help you, I never saw your faces. I never even touched you. I wish I had. I wish I had insisted that they put you in my arms, rather than what happened. But I don’t know that even that would have helped. They wanted you almost as badly as I did, it seems.

I’m sorry that all you knew of life was pain. You were lied to, and you don’t believe me when I say that. But still, you are my babies, and still I love you.

There aren’t really words left–I’ve said it all. I can say it again, but all that matters is this: I love you. I love you both. You will always be my babies, and I will love you always, no matter what. Whatever I do to you, it is for love of you. And if that isn’t strong enough to save you I don’t know what would be.

I’m sorry I never saw you, I’m sorry you never know our love for you. I hope I can assure that you are happy and safe someday, and I won’t give up until then.

Love,
Mommy

I don’t know what else to say anymore. The loss of them is part of me, the tears and the pain are part of me. As much as my love for them will always be, my pain at there loss will not fade either.

In a few days, we will go plant flowers for them. I don’t know if I could go back there alone, but with him–maybe. And I love them enough–the deserve at least some flowers, if I can’t give them anything else, they deserve those flowers.

It’s been a long winter. And now spring is coming. Maybe more than just healing will come in spring. New life returns, whether I want to move forward or no, whether I am read or no–there is always new life in spring. The pain and the love are mine, my twins in place of the children I should have. And so I go on, trying to find a future without stumbling over the past.

What makes enough? (ip)

It’s. Not. Fair.

I love them so much, why isn’t that enough to save them?

What is enough?

My last hope, my last idea, my last thought on how to get them back–and now I find that it is not possible. I expected to much, and she’s too weak to even talk about it.

I know it’ll never be fair, but what WOULD have been enough to make it better? What is the tipping point, between loving enough and not enough?

Why wouldn’t it be easier to just rip out my heart and move on.

It’s not even about unfairness, I made a choice, I knew the risk, still know the risk, and I made a choice. I wouldn’t unmake that choice. I could argue that I was ill informed as to the extent of the risks, and it would be somewhat true, but I knew there were risks. I wouldn’t unmake my choice, even with the knowledge I have now. I wouldn’t undo some days on the road, in a city that was locked down, or after a battle. I wouldn’t undo some months of fear and excitement, or some moments of simple joy. Even knowing how it ends, I wouldn’t undo it.

Is that selfish? Is that why my loving them so much isn’t enough?

I have few regrets. There are things that hurt me, make me sad, and that were poor choices. But ultimately, I have few regrets about the big choices. A pledge made, a child, a declaration, a change in shape, and two other children. I don’t regret any of them. I wish I could explain the second promise that I’d made in my head, in my heart, but that you don’t accept. But even that, I don’t regret. I won’t regret.

It hurts. Losing hurts. Loneliness hurts. Failing hurts. Giving up hurts.

I wish you could be here more, I wish you could hold me longer. I wish for a lot of things.

It’s not perfect, but maybe it’s enough? What is enough? I didn’t love them *enough* because if I had they’d be here and I wouldn’t be thinking this.

…
I’d give you a life full of risk, and the whirlwind of joy that can be
Don’t try to bind me, just love me without any greed
And I’ll give you the world, and my heart, and the air that I breathe

…

I have no illusions to think that I know what will come
I laugh at the concept of life as a simple result of the sun
I just want to hold you, and share with you all of this life
With the stars in the darkness, and love in the light, and its dizzying height

Just breathe. Just breathe and let it go.

I am torn. I find myself fighting a battle that shouldn’t be mine anymore.

I should be dedicated to preventing influence from outside, to sending her home, to protecting everything from something worse. So why do I find myself drawn into this battle with Death? Why do I find myself supporting Life again?

THEY ABANDONED US. They don’t care. I’m breathing and that’s enough. My heart can break, you can be…none of it matters. They didn’t care, as long as we breath. They didn’t even care when the life was stolen from those babes, they didn’t CARE. They just sat back, watching, not caring.

Now suddenly they want help? Now they want something?

They ignored me, begging to serve, for years. And NOW they ask for help? They let my twins be worse than dead, and didn’t do a thing, and now they want MY HELP.

So why do I find myself slipping into the habit of helping? Why do I find myself thinking I should talk to an Order about what it is they do. Why? Why do I find myself arguing against Death, and for Life? Why do I find myself caring?

They don’t care about me, about us. No matter how much we’d given, they didn’t care. So why do I care? Why can’t I just let go? Why can’t I give up?

Why do I HAVE to give up on everything. Family must be separated and protected. Life is not for me. Other things are not for me. I wouldn’t be “happy.” So what will make me happy?

I want to serve. I truly do. I just want to give my whole self to something worthwhile. That is how I am happy–in doing for others. In loving others, I am happy. In protecting, sheltering, and giving life to others.

But I can’t serve IT anymore. I’m too angry, and too broken. When someone can explain to me WHY we were left, maybe it’ll get easier. But now…I’m too angry, too hurt, too frustrated and cold inside.

I just want to do ENOUGH. I want it to be enough. I want to do my best, in all things. I want to do what’s “right” and “good.” I just want to be “good.” What is GOOD what is RIGHT what is ENOUGH?

And still, no matter how much I want to “help,” to be “good,” I am selfish. There are things I want just for me, kind of. I want you to smile, because I want you happy, but also for me. I want “us” back. I want to be *with* you and not feel like we’re miles apart. It’s getting better, but wanting it is still selfish. If I was “good enough” I wouldn’t want that. I would be content with what I have. I would accept that what I want is dangerous and risky. I wouldn’t be certain that the risk is low and it’s worth it to me. I would accept no and move away. But I can’t, because I’m not that good. Because I WANT.

What will be enough? How can I be good enough?

…(ip)

STOP.

Stop avoiding it when I try to talk to you, or anyone tries to talk to you, about something hard.

You don’t respond, you don’t say anything, you just pull away and change the subject and it’s not FAIR. It’s making me…it hurts. It makes me feel unwanted, unimportant. I KNOW you’re tired, but all I’m asking is that you take a bit of time to respond. Not just twist away and change the subject, or just ignore it.

You say you can’t love me as I wish you could. I can accept it, but not really. It’s…I feel like you’re telling me you love me conditionally. I feel like I’m always on thin ice. I feel like if I step wrong here, you’ll abandon me. I feel…disposable?

It’s not fair to you. I’m sure. I’m sure I’m not appreciating, only hearing what I want. Or at least, I tell myself that, because it makes it hurt less. If I can think that I’m just silly and scared, and not really so precariously balanced.

You say you want me, but your actions…don’t always agree with your words. You only want parts of me, not all of me. And you said, directly, that you couldn’t love me as I love you. If that’s true–then how CAN you love me? How DO you love me? I don’t understand any kind of loving that isn’t with certainty. Surely there are trials, challenges, even moments of doubt. But…what do you mean? What did you think I meant?

I wish I could stop hurting. I wish I could stop wishing. I wish I didn’t want you as I do. I wish I didn’t hurt you. I wish…I wish I knew what you wanted, what I wanted. I am tired of hurting and fearing.

I JUST want a moment of peace, of just love, of just pleasure. No, it’s not fair. And it’s wrong of me. Selfish. But true.

I JUST want you. I want you to let me in. You are armoring yourself, because you think it protects you. But you’re locking out emotions and feelings. You can be strong and still feel.

There are no more words, just repetition, the desire for an answer, and the growing wish to just fade away.

(edit–addition)
…
I’d give you a life full of risk, and the whirlwind of joy that can be
Don’t try to bind me, just love me without any greed
And I’ll give you the world, and my heart, and the air that I breathe

…

I have no illusions to think that I know what will come
I laugh at the concept of life as a simple result of the sun
I just want to hold you, and share with you all of this life
With the stars in the darkness, and love in the light, and its dizzying height