September 3, 1950 was the faithful day my folks said “I do” and the rest is history. My dad used to say, “I got married on Labor Day and I’ve been working ever since.” That Stanley. I took it as a good sign that the year I wanted to get married, that September 3rd fell on a Saturday, so I booked the date. It was a very simple ceremony, the reception at the house and of course, I made alternating amaretto and pumpkin cheesecakes for my wedding cake. It was supposed to be the beginning of a new chapter for me, and it was, but it was destined to be a tragedy, not the fairytale I had hoped for. Six years later, in September, the marriage came to an ugly halt. Truths were revealed that have left deep wounds in all that were involved. They say, time heals all wounds, but I doubt there’s enough time in our humble lives to truly heal. Shortly after he left, I had a sharp, stabbing pain, maybe girl stuff, but no. That was the first time it happened, but it wouldn’t be the last.
I began two careers in the natural foods industry, both in September, 16 years apart. No regrets, even though I work some crazy hours and deal with some crazy people, I love what I do. The truth is, my passion for the industry, all that I have learned, has kept me sane. Well, mostly sane. The people I have helped, in one way or another, has been truly rewarding. Just the other day, a customer came in to tell me that her mother had passed, but thanks to my suggestions, she believed that her mother had an additional three years with her family and that they were of higher quality than if they had relied on Western medicine alone. She told me that I am truly a beautiful person for what I did and I am honored that she is not the only person whom speaks highly of the work I do. Throughout my career, I have worked arduous hours, possibly a cause for the pain I experienced, without rhyme or reason, to rear its ugly head while helping customers. I would stop dead in my tracks and be asked if I was okay. I would explain that I just need a moment, it will pass and it did. I think, at times, the embarrassment was worse than the pain itself, but I kept going.
September 4, 2018 was the day I learned the truth about John the Pilot. The walls of illusion came crashing down, but the reality was, I had been a prisoner, even a Sugar Mama, and I didn’t have a clue. Five years later, I still wonder about him, if anything was true, even for a moment. I’ll never know the truth, just like so many other stories I’ve been told in my life, the truth is not mine to behold. I know I am a better person for having the strength, without hesitation, to tell him to leave. The truth was, he was already gone, and just like my ex-husband, he was waiting for me to tell him to leave, because he didn’t have the balls to do it himself. I don’t recall if I was inflicted with the pain at that time, but it wouldn’t surprise me if I had. I know throughout our nine-year relationship, it would hit me, usually when I was questioning why I hadn’t met anyone from his family, why I was never invited into his life. If I did have the pain, I probably ignored it, just like all the other red flags I ignored, but I didn’t want to know the truth.
September 7, 2022: Earlier in the week, my back began to bother me. I had the other shooting pains too, like the ones I have experienced throughout my adult life, the ones that no doctor could diagnose, but I kept working, because that’s what I do. I keep going, no matter what life hands me, I work through the pain, the depression, the anguish, I just keep working. On September 7th, my brother died. I received the phone call while at work and afterwards, I finished my shift and I made arrangements to allow myself to go to his out-of-state funeral. It was something I needed to do not only for myself, but for my family. I dealt with the pain during the long drive and when I returned, I went to the doctor. I was told that I was fine. No, I wasn’t, but I went back to work anyway, because that’s what I do. I work through the pain, until it finally releases me.
It was then that I realized that the pain I feel in my back and other areas, sharp, stabbing pain that cripples me, that seems to have no rhyme or reason, that no one can diagnose, happens when I’m dealing with loss. I’ve always looked forward to the month of September, the hope of the summer heat coming to an end, the beginning of a traditional school year (not mid-Augus), and all that is wonderful about Autumn. In the past couple of days, my back has been bothering me. Today, I realized that maybe it has something to do with it being the anniversary of so many troubling moments in my life. Today is the day I mourn the loss of the future I thought I would have with my ex-husband and more recently, with John the Pilot. This week will mark the one-year anniversary of my bother’s passing and as I write this piece, my career’s future may be reaching a turning point. So much to think about, so much that haunts me, so much, so very, very much.
When I came home from work today, I was greeted by an unsolicited hug from my son. It startled me, I’m usually the one who must beg for one. I later noticed that he had even made his bed and did some dishes. It made me ponder, who was that and what did he do with my son? Maybe this September is a new chapter in his life and he is finding joy. He has met someone and is being more social, he is more focused on his health and career. Yes, this September may mark a happy anniversary for him.
My other child is stationed in another country. Usually, when I receive a message from this one, I am frightened that it is bad news, because our amount of communication leaves a bit to be desired. This child spends a lot of time on the computer and I routinely suggest that the great outdoors beckons. The first time I received an unsolicited text, many moons ago, it frightened me. However, it began with the statement, “Went outside.” Followed by pictures of what was seen. I was so fucking happy! Today, I received a series of photos of the great outdoors my child has recently seen. May this be another happy anniversary to acknowledge throughout the coming years.
One more day and hopefully, the summer heat will relinquish its hold on me and be replaced with the cool breezes of Autumn. My garden is slowly going to sleep, but it still brings me great joy. When I tend to it, I don’t think about the pain as much. The movement, the concentration of trying not to trip over the garden hose as I’m quenching its thirst, the pruning and tending that allows my mind to focus on something other than mental and physical pain. When I came inside, I guzzled down some lemonade and laid on the floor. Using a mat, I gently stretched, in hopes of the pain losing its grip on me. I think, for a moment, I may have even fallen asleep, it’s been a long day and the pain just made it seem longer.
The sun has gone down, as well as the temperature. The symphony of the garden fountains and chimes along with the chirping cicadas and crickets are accompanied by the hum of the fans that keep this house feeling more like a home, than a sweaty prison. This is what I choose to focus on, instead of the anniversaries that plague my gray matter. It’s time to let go, to move beyond the pain and stop working, for a moment, and just be.
#thelieswechoosetolivewith
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