Falling Through

Funny enough, it was my LiveJournal that woke me up and helped me see my life for what it was. Remember those? Photos are one thing, but re-experiencing 21-24 year old me spilling her guts for everyone to read was enlightening. After I stopped cringing, my little trip down the rabbit hole offered a lot of insight on my past that I might otherwise have missed.

Late literary legend Maya Angelou is famous for a lot of quotes- not least of which, "You did then what you knew how to do, and when you knew better, you did better." She was one of my heroes. Before she passed away, she spoke at my university. I don't know why I didn't show up earlier; There were so many people in line that after the ushers filled up the 500 seat hall where she was speaking, they stuck the rest of us into an overflow theatre where I watched my hero from a large screen. It was still wonderful and inspiring.

Wise and inspirational quotes have always resonated with me more than a typical person. I have filled many a journal with quotes, relishing each little bit of wisdom. I've never given my quote-obsession much thought, but maybe it's because they represent a type of simple, endearing wisdom I've never been accustomed to receiving elsewhere.

You know how famous people are always being interviewed and asked about what great advice their parents gave them? And they always have something really good. It's not usually groundbreaking info- it's usually stuff like, always do your best, be kind to others, etc. But in spite of the mundane words, they still elicit images of happy families where the parents take time to gently instill values by example.

My parents taught me to walk on eggshells; At the same time, they taught me to stomp on the ground around me until my adversaries fall through the ice. How appropriate that at every turn, they made it feel like the world beneath my feet could not support me in any circumstance, because every moment of my life at home felt like walking across a not-suitably frozen pond.

I've never seen one in real life-- a frozen pond. Only in the movies. Seriously, though, as a Californian, I have a question. Is it always a bad idea to cross a frozen pond? Cause in every movie where someone's on one...they fall through. Depending on the genre of the movie, they usually get rescued just in time...but sometimes not.

It's obviously a little precarious to be out on a frozen body of water; So why chance it, ever? Then again, I suppose you could ask me the same thing about the time I still spend with my family.

I didn't tell anyone when my dad passed away. It was so awkward having to respond to the people who said they were sorry for my loss. It would have been too cliche to say, "I'm not." Maybe even a little crude. It was probably a bigger social faux pas than I realized when I kept the little baggie of rocks at his funeral.

I happily shoveled in a few handfuls of dirt, as is the super weird tradition. But then, something new... Well, new to me, as someone who has only attended a handful of funerals. Everyone was given these oddly feminine mesh fabric baggies with a handful of decorative rocks. They were to be placed at the gravesite. The symbolism, as explained in the service, was quite beautiful. Something about showing that you were there; a declaration of the deceased person's legacy and their role in your life. It was an act of love and respect.

Absolutely not, I said to myself, holding my rocks as inconspiciously as possible, wishing my dress had pockets to hide them. But it didn't matter that no one could see the baggie I was holding flesh against my hip. When you're part of the immediate family, people watch your reactions. Everyone was waiting for me to deposit my little baggie of rocks.

Two older ladies approached me. Go put some rocks on your father's grave, dear.

And I looked them in the eye, silently.

"No," I said, simply. Because no is a complete sentence. One that I wish I'd had the power and the wherewithal to speak. Especially with this deceased immediately family member, who no longer gets to have a legacy position.

No rememberance rocks for me, thanks. Besides, they were too small to make a dent. I'd need boulders. If you want to know what this immediate family feels like, you can't place rocks, you have to throw them. You have to break things. You have to draw blood.

But blood isn't the most important thing. And some know that blood doesn't actually mean family. Not always.

And with one less blood relative speaking dysfunction into my life, I don't have to walk onto the frozen pond and hope to God I don't fall through. At last, I can look up. I don't watch the ground and wince as I feel it shattering beneath me.

Until my mother calls. And then I tread carefully. But I know how. It's what she taught me.

Someday I will be interviewed about my childhood and someone will smile unknowingly when they hear my answer of what my parents taught me.

They taught me that I can walk across a frozen pond without falling through.