I was at a get together at a good friend’s place last week. Toward the end of the night, she shared a song with me and told me that since Albert’s accident, she thinks of me every time she hears it on her playlist.
The name of the song is Supergirl. Three of us listened to it together and hugged as the song ended. They said I am a survivor for all that I have been through, and even a fighter and for this I am a Supergirl. I found the song online and listened to it on my bicycle ride home that night, stopping when I could not longer see through all my tears and my sobs had me weaving.
I want to be this a fighter, to accept it is not my time and that I am here for a reason I do not yet know. I want to emulate those qualities in Albert that I admired and be a better person for loving him. I want to be strong enough to rise to this challenge and learn whatever lesson may lie dormant in this nightmare.
I want to be this Supergirl, I want to be her for my friends and family who wish the person they knew would return.
But that person I was will never return. What may seem like strength is merely the absence of a choice. I can put on a normal face and force a smile in public I can get drunk and dance. I’ve learned how to sob so hard in a restaurant bathroom that my spit and tears wet the floor and I can walk out moments later as if nothing happened. I can orchestrate dinners and events because I fear the void of loneliness will swallow me and anguish will annihilate me. I’ve learned to wait out the horrifying clash and collapse of myself, the earth, galaxies, all of creation – into nothingness, over and over. I can pretend there is some grand plan, some purpose or lesson, in this future that has been presented to me in a fucked up basket with a black ribbon.
I am fragile and sensitive and although I would like to, I help no one. I get upset at everything and everyone. I resist every step. I shouldn’t even be making decisions for myself. I’ve missed planes, left important items behind and lost many more, missed appointments, forgotten to pay bills, double booked appointments, screwed up work projects, made impulsive purchases for things I didn’t need, lost work and clients, communicated poorly with people I care about and made them feel bad too, and the list goes on.
I wish I could gather my broken pieces and form them into a whole. I wish I could see through the darkness in front of me. I wish I could feel the coming winter with anything other than dread and fear of its echoing loneliness, its constant reminders of what no longer is and never again will be.
I wish I could be Supergirl.