Stop this train. I want off.

Does the world need equilibrium? Does the bad and good have to be balanced out? Is humanity’s thought that the world really cares about us also humanity’s hubris. Do we think we matter that much? We put ourselves above animals. We put ourselves above each other. We’ve also put ourselves above the plant, which is what provides us with everything we need to survive. Am I just trying to feel like the writers and philosophers who’s words resonate with me?

I’ve lived my life wondering when the next shoe will drop. There always has to be bad to go with the good. You don’t deserve the good right? This year has been very hard to write anything. I haven’t really written in my journal, nor have I updated this blog. Today is another reminder that time waits for no one. The clock still ticks. The sun rises and sets. The world rotates, and makes another trip around the sun. Nothing stops it. It is indifferent to us. I believe that’s how it should be. We aren’t that special. We’ve just been really lucky to be as smart as we are.

The never ending grief that I feel while watching my mom slowly die is not entirely explainable. There are countless people out there who have done this same cycle of good and bad days. You have good days when they’re awake and coherent. You have bad days when they end up back in the hospital or any other reminder of the futility and fragility of impending loss. Some are on their grief train after their loss. They see constant reminders of their loss. I’m constantly reminded that the loss will happen. Nothing can be done. It won’t be quick. It’s been a marathon that turned into a 50 miler. Today it feels like I can see the finish line. I’ve seen the finish line before though; earlier this year in fact. Then fate, destiny, or just life decided that there was still time to move the finish line. As our legs were wobbly and our lungs burned with the fires of hell we had no choice but to continue. It’s a train on the tracks with no breaks. You know what the destination is, but you don’t know how many stops there are until you get to the end of the line. The end of the line though is death. Not your death, but your parent’s death. The toll taken on them could actually spell the death of both. Conversations turn to healing and apologies. Now you’re on two separate trains. One for each parent. They don’t intersect. Your heart breaks twice as much. A husband on the brink straining to care for his dying wife and the feeling of failing. A wife losing the futile battle against cancer. You with reasons to be happy living a life that is dream like until the train stops at a station to bring you back from healing. The doors open and you step back out not sure where you are nor how you got there. Is this the last station or are there more? You see your father at the station and you both share war stories. His from actual war your from your own personal war. You do your best to comfort him and protect him from his ghosts. When will the doors on the train open again? You have no choice but to get back on. There’s only one destination, but no known map or timeline.

This year I got married to an amazing women. Our child was born. I’m amazed at how those two things can make me feel so grateful. The day we traveled home after the wedding we both had to get back on our grief trains. Her family had multiple medical issues. My mom was back in the hospital again. Then it was 3 weeks in a rehab to get strong again. The doors opened and we stepped back onto the train to see what was next. Earlier the train stopped as I realized my mom will never hold her grandchild. She’s too sick and weak to do it safely, let alone the poison flowing through her body. They meet for a few hours and then it’s back on the train. Today the train came to a halt again and the doors opened again. She’s back in the hospital. Dad is destroyed from constantly caring for her and his own battles. Is this it? Will we have to get on the train? I don’t want to get on the train again. I’m so exhausted. I only want one train to ride. I need to help heal my dad. I want him to be around for our little girl. He’s so excited. He deserves this. We need this to complete our relationship.

Please don’t make me get back on the train. Maybe I can change the line that I’m on. Maybe it can have a different destination this time. Can it be take us to the ability to deal with the grief. The constant “I think I’m ready. I think I’ve dealt with this” is tiring. I’ve been here before. We can’t do it much longer. I want to switch tracks and work towards actually being able to accept it all. My mom hasn’t been my mom in so long. I can’t let it all go and work towards acceptance and understanding until this train reaches the end of the line.

This year I got married to an amazing women. Our child was born. I’m amazed at how those two things can make me feel so grateful. The day we traveled home after the wedding we both had to get back on our grief trains. Her family had multiple medical issues. My mom was back in the hospital again. Then it was 3 weeks in a rehab to get strong again. The doors opened and we stepped back onto the train to see what was next. Earlier the train stopped as I realized my mom will never hold her grandchild. She’s too sick and weak to do it safely, let alone the poison flowing through her body. They meet for a few hours and then it’s back on the train. Today the train came to a halt again and the doors opened again. She’s back in the hospital. Dad is destroyed from constantly caring for her and his own battles. Is this it? Will we have to get on the train? I don’t want to get on the train again. I’m so exhausted. I only want one train to ride. I need to help heal my dad. I want him to be around for our little girl. He’s so excited. He deserves this. We need this to complete our relationship.

Please don’t make me get back on the train. Maybe I can change the line that I’m on. Maybe it can have a different destination this time. Can it be take us to the ability to deal with the grief. The constant “I think I’m ready. I think I’ve dealt with this” is tiring. I’ve been here before. We can’t do it much longer. I want to switch tracks and work towards actually being able to accept it all. My mom hasn’t been my mom in so long. I can’t let it all go and work towards acceptance and understanding until this train reaches the end of the line.