I kept busy yesterday. While working on some writing I had to do, Cydney woke up and I met her at the top of the steps. I met her at the top of the steps. She came out of her room with Blue Bear and her new soccer ball that we’ve been sleeping with since purchase and wanted to give me a big hug. It’s the first thing I could think to do. I told her that I loved her, called her my Little Ladybug like her mother would, and she responded that “You’re my big guy.” Can’t make stuff like that up.
We started our day by going to the tattoo shop. For a change I was treating myself. When I buy anything got myself it is out of necessity. I got a phoenix. It’s literally been my identity. After a brief stint as an embarrassing rap name in eighth grade I changed it to Phoenix (It’s where the “P” in my Twitter and Insragram name, @PSolo4short). While I don’t consider myself a rapper anymore as I just dibble and dabble in as a hobby, but I think the fifteen years it’s stuck with me in some is why it has become a part of who I am. I thought yesterday was the best day to get it. Like a phoenix, I lived as someone, at twenty-five burned, and December 9, 2011 I have become someone else; a rare bird you might say.
After taking my nephew to karate class, reprimanding Cydney and he got everything from drawing on the walls to not doing their homework when they got home, and put Cydney to bed I was alone with my thoughts. I tried to do something I never fully did: grieve. I have thoughts and sometimes they evoke a little sadness, but not actually acting on the sadness. Listening to Marsha Ambrosious’s ‘Far Away’ on repeat I found myself thinking about why this song reminds me of Timile. When I was in Atlanta for my best friend’s wedding in 2011 I was driving down Northside Drive and that song came on the radio. Out of nowhere the years came. All I could think about what Timile. I got back to Buffalo two days later and thirty minutes into being home I find myself crying for no reason in front of Timile. Eventually I realized that I was grieving over what she was going through. Looking at her bald, emaciated, and holding my child just overwhelmed me.
I still didn’t grieve yesterday. Maybe the time has passed and one day when I’m in my forties out when Cydney gets married it’ll hit me but I don’t know. I never got to really be sad over my loss. When she died I was busy consoling my family, custody battles, and the day to day life stuff time passed. I skipped over the fourth stage of grief and moved forward because I had already accepted it. It’s definitely had adverse effects on me. I’m incredibly blunt now. I try to curb it as much as possible but because I’ve been dealt a pretty rough hand I tend to keep it very real without taking into account who I am speaking to. I think I’ve already delved into how I have become cynical and this one sentence sums it up.
When it comes to grieving, I wish that I’d had someone to grieve with or to. No outgoing calls of tears from me. In fact, everyone was crying to me. Where was I to go? When people keep pouring on top of the already heavy load you’re carrying it can get a little out of control. The once in a blue moon when people ask me how I’m doing, a brief synopsis gets cut off and people go on and on about themselves. Not to be rude, just let it go and that’s that. When I do people just don’t seem to say anything or respond if somehow the conversation had something to do with them. Others who have offered, nah no thanks. They’re not about this life.
With all of that said, I’m doing just fine. The bad habits that have formed I am working on changing them as much as I see fit (I just will try not to be as brutally honest). I’ve moved on and anything I say or feel isn’t rooted in my past and I have truly let it go. What I say to people about how I feel and I care is real and solely has to do with them. Nothing is misplaced. I guess this post has been a period of reflection; looking back with 20/20 hindsight more or less about the subject than about me actually feeling grief.