There There

I had a dream that terrified me. While some dreams are cinematic and not something I take too literal, this one gave me a taste of my own medicine. It made all those simple scenarios that I figured I could get though in life punch me in the throat for my arrogance.

Prior to this horrific dream I had visited my grandmother . As I was listening to this colorful history of her life, she shared that she is the last of her immediate family alive. In the moment, I sensed her sadness but didn't get it. She's not the last, I thought, she helped create us all, therefore there is no last.

I assured her these thoughts and she politely smiled. She knew I had no comprehension and let it go...

I continued about my daily duties and pushed through workdays and safe nights at home.

THEN CAME THAT DAMN SUCKERPUNCH

To preface, I am a very involved character in my dreams. I'm never "watching", its an active role. I may do things but don't have feelings until after I awake. Some stir with me, but few rattle me while I'm dreaming to a point that I have to publish it.

I am discovering my older sister has died, a result of an untreated concussion. Her husband states she slipped on ice and cracked her head. Being prideful as she was, she told him she is fine. This was nothing compared to the football tackles she performed to break up fights during our childhood.

But pride took her. I was devastated and sobbing. I saw the visual of trees in the sky as if I was standing by a window, looking up and outward. I felt an old corded phone in my hand as I heard my mothers voice on the phone.

Her irritated voice hissing, "WHAT MIA?!?" She never liked being interrupted and it surely sounded as if thats what I did.

"She's dead." I shakily gasped.

"WHAT THE F**K ARE YOU SAYING? CUT THE DUMB S**T OUT. WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME?!?"

"Mary's dead."

She gets angrier and says more verbal diarrhea I don't remember to quote. She can't understand why the hell I would call her after not speaking for months just to mess with her. That's the self centered defensive thought process she has. I don't know how to try to gather oxygen to expel it back out, but the strained angry nature my relationship with this mother of mine syphons the oxygen and then compresses my chest as if CPR has been executed.

"B***H SHE'S DEAD." I hang up.

I am on my elementary school grounds near the sloped sidewalk on the hill next to it, sitting on the picnic tables. It's covered in snow and not the parking lot that it is now. I feel swollen in my eyes and nose. I pull out my cell to call my younger sister. The thoughts are scrambled, but I remember needing to talk to her. I was pining to hold her.

She answers my call and inquires "Whats the occasion?"

She already knows our sister is gone and continues in typical style to project underwhelmed unaffected Mandy.

"Mandy, I love you."

I say it with such neediness I feel disgusted for her. She is distant and asks to call me later. We hang up.

I feel nauseous. Bubbles of anxiety are in my stomach boiling, the soft roaring foam of vomit is rising in my throat.

I'm home.

I walk into the bathroom and sit on the counter. Alex is in the shower. He steps out, sees my face and asks what's wrong.

I wail, "NO ONE CARES SHE IS DEAD! MANDY DOESN'T WANT TO BE MY SISTER! NO ONE CARES THAT LITTLE BOY DOESN'T HAVE A MOTHER, A FATHER WIDOWED!"

Alex comes to console me, but it feels so wrong. It feels like the sympathy I gave my grandmother about being the last. I continue to sob and wail in his arms. I wet myself into the sink and give into full emotional breakdown.

I get the image of her husband but he's in my childhood house, in the room my sisters and I shared. Our broken down water bed with the frame on the floor and stuffed with two twin mattresses.

"Mia, he's going to be okay. We are going to be fine."

Sitting on this bed, I cry in despair. No, not this life. Don't give my nephew this life please!

I awake terrified. I text my older sister, sharing the disgusting facts. We laugh at some ridiculous details, myself cursing our mother for one. I feel the burn in my throat as I text "I love you."

The next few days felt painful. Lumps in the throat. Yes, it was a dream. I know it is not real. Mortality got you down? Quit whining.

BUT IT STIRRED SO MUCH MORE IN ME. It brought the pain and fear I should have been having for years as my grandparents continue to age. Of course it brought the realization that nothing lasts and we all die, but it made me get the taste of the "There, there!" medicine I deserved.

No one has passed in my lifetime except for relatives I was too young to know. But point proven, I hadn't felt the true grips a loss can hold on you. And mine was only a piece of a REM cycle.

That statement continues to terrify me. It was only a piece of pain I would feel if I lost my immediate family members. What do I do now? I feel compulsion to hold everyone I love just a little bit closer. But what do you do when you don't talk to half of your family anymore? What do you do when a violent sibling threatens you? What do you do in any negative toxic relationship? You cut ties. You block cell phone numbers. You assure yourself you are not the one to blame and continue to forge healthier relationships with others that are worth the investment.

But it won't be the kiss goodbye, that's at the funeral. That's the true goodbye isn't it? I was assuring my cocky self with the first goodbye that I wouldn't have to feel the pain of estranged loved ones gone. Now I know its bullshit and I will suffer no matter if we don't speak.

The soft foam is back in my throat.