Darling Michael,
Do you know how much I miss you? Are you around us, because there are times when I ‘feel’ your presence. Strange things happen, familiar things.
It is so much more comforting for those of us who are in the physical world, to believe that our loved ones are somehow still ‘around us’ and I choose to believe that you and others in the family are somehow in contact.
I grieve not just that you are not around and I miss spending time with you, I miss our conversations, your faxes your postcards and phone calls. I miss your hugs and I miss your funny stories. That would be the selfish side of my grief. I look across my dining room table, the same table that our parents purchased in Hong Kong in 1965 - it has done some traveling that table. It has heard some secrets, several lifetime conversations, and I see you -at 5 years old, ten, 20. I can sit at that table and remember conversations with you, and about you, happy and sad over 49 years worth. You should be here.
I grieve that you missed out on so much. Some people would say that you enjoyed an extraordinary life and granted that is true. What I see is that you missed out on life with the most important person - your daughter. That is really something to mourn. That is the saddest of all. I remember how you watched me with my children, the interest you showed in the various stages of their growth and I still see the look on your face watching our interaction. You just seemed to want to experience that joy so much. I wanted that for you too. When you did become a father we both knew it wasn’t the ideal situation - we talked about that often. But you held such blind love for that precious little girl, your clone. Those tiny fingers wrapped around yours and held onto your heart. It seemed no matter how entangled the situation, that everything would magically work out.
People say that you wouldn’t leave a child, but I have read the books I have done my homework and know that at that moment, at that time when you were in the depths of despair, devoid of all hope, when you could not see beyond the loneliness of your problems, when you could not see a way out of the pain in your mind; I know at that horrific moment that your pain was blinding. I realize that at that moment you were blind to the love you had for that child, the love of your family and friends, the highs from your many achievements, and love from your fans…….you just wanted to stop the pain in your mind.
There are times when I have felt such guilt and physical pain over your passing. In the beginning I thought I was walking around with a cinder block across my chest. I couldn’t speak, my throat was blocked. I could not understand why.
Not WHY did you do it but why couldn’t I prevent it. I was able to protect you from many things when you were a little boy, why not this. The pain never goes away. This is a different kind of loss. This is a senseless loss. This problem of yours could have been worked out, I’m sure you know that now but in that split second in time, that overwhelming pain you experienced alone in that room…………..nobody is prepared for that kind of pain. No way out. I understand you saw no way out. But I’m sure you know the debilitating loss that we all felt with your passing. The ripples of hurt and loss throughout the family. It is comforting for me to think of you reuniting with Mother, with Dad and with Ross and of course others in our family, and friends. It is the only way I can comfort myself from this loss.
The invisible scars we carry around are sometimes confusing for people we come in contact with. I think the ‘time will heal all’ adage is a bit over-rated. Every time I am reminded that Tiger is experiencing a milestone in her life I am overwhelmed with the thought that you missed it and consequently we all missed it. The very thing you were afraid of, the very thought that was constantly on your mind, the idea that Bob could steal your child………well it happened.
If anyone doubts the power of the single thought they just have to listen to your story. You willed your worst fear to come true. I guess you know he kept her from us. I guess you know he refused to allow her to come see our mother when she was dying. Her last wish, her only wish and I was helpless when he calmly said, “I don’t think that’s necessary loooove”. So passive aggressive. I understand your frustration, believe me.
There is so much more that we need to talk about - I just wish we could all sit around the table again.
With all my love,
Tina
California
November 19, 2014 |
