Death?: Growing Up. . .
Updated: Nov 9, 2019
Lately, I've been wondering, who am I becoming? The last time I had "growing pains," I was in middle school, and I was growing in height at such a rapid rate that my joints ached; I was just beginning to talk to boys instead of only having crushes. Now, I try to avoid human contact by grocery shopping at odd ball hours, going to the gym super early and hiding in nature as much as possible. I 'm sure it's my season of the Hermit. Sometimes we need to take time to let go of what no longer serves our journey. It's an emotional Autumn cleansing.
When we think of death, we often assume it is the the bodily flesh that becomes lifeless, one we never see mobile again. But what happens when the flesh is alive in its own right,yet all one has is memories of a bond that is no longer?
I have been thinking about death in all forms. This has been a conversation in my journal for quite some time. I know it is part of growing up to know that many of one's relationships stop, change and very few can transform and blossom into something stronger. This is where my heart ache begins. I have three brothers and my parents are divorced. One of my youngest brothers called me tonight to express his sadness because our older brother, who is a genius yet is an Afro-latino with mental illness, is unreachable because he is in another unhealthy spiral. I chose to soothe my brother's aching heart by telling him that we have to accept our older brother's journey. We both have to lay to rest the brother we grew up with that we thought was "crazy" not realizing that it wasn't that simple. We had to let go of the brother who told us incredible hilarious stories, listened to classical music, and learned a new language every couple of years. He now speaks eight languages in total. It was a death that I had been grappling with myself. My older brother has always been the Pisces: swimming in circles, holding his emotions deep within, and lashing out in a flash at any given moment. To be Frank, I miss those years where he and I could speak for hours about philosophy, cry about our childhood, and laugh immensely about our mother's "you are in trouble" stare. But seasons have changed, and we have both grown in different directions. Leaving the magic of our sometimes troubled yet curious childhood and entering the adult years without the familiar of my brother's calming voice or the distractions of his temper has been troublesome. I recognize what I miss is the familiar. We are no longer trauma bonding and playing, sometimes , harmful roles for one another, instead we are changing.
With death comes change, and I believe that change is freedom.
No longer am I this young girl bouncing around cities playing the "game" of dating while what I really wanted was someone warm, tender and kind. I have calmed down into a space for myself and not into the societal accepted role of settling with a man. I'm more in tune with my spirit, mind and emotional body; books still bring me great joy, and travel and nature inspire me. There has been a death of the chaos of my roaring twenties. I just wish some of my family members could experience this peace that I have entered. I must remember that their freedom may look and feel different.