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You know those moments that you do something that you know that's gonna hurt, but you do it anyways? Not daring like touching something sharp or sticking your tongue in something hot like a flame. No, the more painful things.
My mom just left with my dad and little brother to the "hunting club". I haven't been feeling so great, so I've been staying at home.
I was outside in the front yard looking for my little cousin's ring when they pulled out of the drive way. She rolled her window down and politely told me what there was in the fridge, to call if there was an emergency, and that they left the door unlocked. I nodded to show that I was in fact listening to the same details that she gave me whenever she left at any time.
My dad being short of patient as always- took down the road at a time that felt almost too soon.
"I love you too. Bye."
I knew that the unfinished part of that conversation and finishing the nonexistent conversation would hurt. Make me feel empty. And wonder if I ever said it enough before when I was younger.
When I was 12, I felt like saying "I love you" and such should just be implied. There never had to be that awkward part where you didn't know what to say after the "I love you too." and then awkwardly close the car door behind you before departing for another bothersome day of school. Now, that I don't get to see her every day since I moved away. It hurts. Her heart isn't in the greatest shape and that seems to be the cause of death for the women in my family... Overdramatic as it may seem, I worry about her dying without me being there... but then again, I don't want to be there when she does go. Because I don't know how I could handle it. And dying before her would be unfair to her.
She drives 34 hours a year to drive me from GA (our meeting point between the states) to SC and from SC to GA. If something were to happen on that trip, I would blame myself. And I would always ask "Why didn't I just stay home?" I know why I left, but would it be worth it at that point?
It's like the story of the man I read my freshman year of high school. He had spent so many hours on this article he was writing and so focused on it. It flew out of the window and he found himself on a ledge on the verge of dying for this paper and realized if it was all necessary.
I wonder a lot if I'm wasting my life on a piece of paper sometimes that I'm not going to realize until I'm on the brink of death.
Right now, I'm still just a kid and I don't know what I'm chasing and where it'll lead me. I just wanna be happy.