Dear Mom
Do you remember the movie Cast Away? I remember we had a conversation about it once, maybe a few times, I can't remember now. There are so many things I can't remember, it seems, things I know we did or said. The memories I have of you or of things we did together are like grains of sand in an hour glass. They are there within my reach but every time I try to grasp one it slips through my fingers and it's gone. I hope these memories will come back in time, when I have regained my ability to focus, but for now the feelings of frustration and fear; frustration because I can't seem to remember and fear of forgetting altogether wonderful, special memories of you, continue.
Tonight was my first time seeing the movie. I am not sure why I didn't see it in theatres but I do remember you enjoyed it. We always liked Tom Hanks; especially when he looses his temper. I enjoyed it also but probably would have enjoyed it more a year ago, when we could have discussed how cute Tom Hanks was after four years on the island and laughed about Wilson. I confided in Jeff that I wanted a Wilson and he said I already had one. I guess Pooh is my Wilson.
Although I enjoyed the story there were certain parts that were very difficult for me to watch, and even more painful to digest. Something I didn't do until after Jeff left.
For instance, do you remember the part where he is lying flat on his back on the battered raft? He had finally escaped from the island but had lost Wilson. Sobbing, he cries out, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," repeatedly. Watching his body heave as he sobbed, I wanted to say, "I've been there. I know what you are feeling because I have felt it too. I feel it almost daily."
That scene symbolically demonstrates the way I often feel. Lost at sea, floating on a battered raft, alone, experiencing hopelessness, loss, and grief so intense that all you can do is cry out, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
At times like that what am I sorry for? Sorry for all the times I hurt you or embarrassed you. Sorry for all the moments I was impatient with you. Sorry I didn't write more or call more. Sorry I didn't quit my job and come home like you asked. Sorry you aren't still here with me so we can do things like talk about movies, and my friends and guys I date, and the cats, and how Dad's doing and how Josh's classes are going. I'm sorry all our opportunities to make memories are gone. Lost.
Do you remember when he's at his homecoming party, in the hotel, and his friend pats him on the back and says, "tomorrow we are going to make you come back to life,"? A man, once believed dead, suddenly comes back to life. Wouldn't that be nice? Difficult but nice. I wish I could believe you were just away on vacation or stranded on an island but I can't. I know you are gone and nothing can bring you back to me. You will not be gone four years, not even twenty.
One of the things I struggle with most, is that I don't know how much time separates us; how much time must pass before we'll be reunited.
Until that day, I continue to drift alone in a sea of lonliness and uncertainity, crying out, "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry."
Your Cast Away-
Sissy
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