Maybe I'm still daydreaming of being back in Hawaii.. It is quite the transition, I mean we had a freakin' blizzard the very next day I returned. Of course, I'm gonna be a bit dramatic and dwell in my own misery. BUT, it's warmer out, I dug the ice out of my driveway and broke a few icicles along the way.. AND there is more light out. So, I dug myself out of my hole today (sort of) and made the most out of my day (after 11am, that is).
There's been a lot on my mind.. and I spent most of my weekend organizing my photos and thoughts on paper (to get ready to place in my Project Life Album) and I thought I'd share one page of a notebook filled with my thoughts during my visit home.
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I flew in on a late Sunday night.. it was a long flight and I was just glad to stretch my legs.. a lot of my thoughts didn't process till a few days into our visit back home. One thing I did find odd, was how I felt that Monday evening, in a place that I called home, nearly 17 years ago...
Disconnected.
There’s something odd about being some place so familiar yet I feel so out of place. I feel almost disconnected from the very sidewalk that used to lead me home day after day, the place that I came to, to feel safe, a place where I dreamt what life would be like outside of these walls, a place I once called home.
I enter the apartment complex, Bishop Gardens and my childhood surrounds me. I can still see my dad along with my grandparents sitting outside as I walked home from school. The staircase near my home is where I often took my new cordless phone to get some privacy. There’s the square concrete behind my apartment where the playground once stood. That odd scent of rubbing alcohol and Lysol because my mom was a bit of a germa-phobe. The cabinet that held anything from an old clock that my mom got as award after several years working at the Sheraton, the untouched Encyclopedias, the glass jar that held everything from bobby pins, coins and whatever could fit in there. And there, the photos some in frames, while some just propped up against the shelf, proof that I grew up here. Yet, I felt like a stranger in this place.
I feel disconnected. As if this was a place I visited from time to time, in my dreams.
I get it now, I understand why I feel this way with every visit I make back home. I “disconnect” myself from the memories, from what my heart yearns for simply because it hurts so much. And for some odd reason, the only vivid memory I’ve had from home after I left nearly 17 years ago was the day I left to move to California. As the car drove off to the airport, I turned around to see my dad, with his knees on the parking lot, crying out for me. And since then, it was like I detached myself from this place, that I was so eager to leave.
Today, nearly 17 years later, I return with a different outlook, one that I didn’t want to face. My mother is dying. Sure everyone is eventually going to die, but most people don’t know what will claim their life. For her, cancer will take her life, sooner than I want it too. As I said goodnight to my mother, after my first full day there, spending most of the day at the hospital, visiting doctors, overwhelmed with information I have never felt so lost and out of place. I completely shutdown and disconnect myself, once again.. because it hurts that bad.
Day one was indeed one of the toughest, but as the days went on, it was almost like I stepped into my brother's shoes for the day, for the week.. it was then, that I understood how much he has given up so that my parents are well taken care of, and the heavy burden he carries every single day.
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I spent the better part of my weekend placing my photos in order of how I wanted to print them.. I had every intention of working on them during the Superbowl.. but, that sofa (not the game, although it was a good game) sucked me in.. and I literally could not move.. LOL
