Somethings Coming

I never knew how strong I was until the accident happened. After seeing my little sister struck in the head by a 6 ft metal scaffolding pipe? Yea, that’ll do it. Seeing how our “father” reacted? That’ll really do it. The swirling and howling of the wind on that highway awoke every fear and regret in me. A tornado of helplessness as the world fell away into one moment. The black cattle settled against the yellow hills and all of the cars just shooting passed us. We were in a hell of our own. I remember that borrowed clip I got from beauty school, the one on the back of her head..the smell of blood mixed with coffee. I can see my mother, attempting to reassure me that I was helping.

“Apply pressure, but not too firmly.” The operator said slowly.

“Oh my god! I don’t think I’m helping!” I screamed in my mothers direction as ethereal scents filled the air and my sisters face started to change. She was rescued 12 excruciating minutes later.

Those moments of preciousness and fear have never left me. Telling my sister to listen to her angels and the wind, trying to remind myself of the same. It’s all etched into my being like an additional set of lungs. Trauma does that to you. It changes you. That pounding began on a August morning and almost 6 years later, I still feel it. A second heart beat. A beat that today defines me as I navigate life and care for my Grandmother, whom is unknowingly and knowingly suffering. Dementia is a cruel cruel disease that captures its victims and all their sweetness, only to release a fragrance every now and then. A look, a smile, a word. Even then it’ll never be enough. The pointless desire to change what is happening, like the accident, I sometimes feel I’m not helping, but in fact I am.

Yet still you soak in all you can as the dementia demon returns. And it does. The years of caring for her has pushed me on a adventurous journey of my own heartbreak and inner growth. I am becoming a dream that I never thought possible. That strength I never thought I could possess.

My sister, my grandmother, the strong women. I too, stand proudly next to them. My sisters’ survival and defeat of the monstrous challenges she faced after the accident, showed her fierce will to live. My grandmother always taught us to take the high road, love animals, writing and family. Ever stressing the importance of how one is treated. My sweet little gram, is not so lucky. She’ll only get worse as the years go by. Every time I get a breeze of the real her, dementia demon slithers in to claim his prize. Coiling his tail back & exposing his fangs. Yet nowadays he forgets that I am not afraid. Nothing is as scary as almost losing my sister. Nothing.

My soul contract with my grandmother is full of loyalty and commitment. Whenever she crosses that veil to the after I will be here, weaving the physical world around her with love and light. Despite the sinking and stretching a carer feels we often burn brighter. I have had no choice but to become strong. I will continue to fight the monsters for the joy of these fleeting moments I have with her. I have found that in life there is always going to be something coming, a monster, a challenge or an accident. Wether you believe you are made to handle them or not, both roads lead to your strength. The strength that just needs to be remembered.