We are really smack up against a decision point now. We know we can survive the devastating loss of Morgan; we have done so for 10+ months. The question now is we must decide if we even want to. Do we choose to LIVE again? Not just to eke out an existence but to actually embrace life? It’s hard; part of us is still numb and asleep to the rhythms and energy of a normal life. We walk a stumbling gait, with one foot in the world of the living and the other firmly planted in the land of the dead. Eventually, soon, we will have to choose and commit to one or the other.
Our friends and family cajole, and beckon, and even bully us to return to a more normal way of living. Haven’t we suffered enough yet? The pain quota has been met. Is it time to be happy? No. There’ is still imbalance in the equation. We cannot be breathing and have suffered as much as Morgan did. How do you wall off or neutralize the too vivid imaginings of her death throes? How do you stop superimposing the hologram of Morgan’s skull on every young face you see?
This is wrong. Morgan should be at VT, settling into her apartment for her senior year, stocking the fridge and calling Dan for money and help reconciling her check book, or maybe in line at the VT bookstore waiting to buy yet another Hokie hoodie. But she is “chapwa”, finished, no more, over. We feel finished too. You know there’s not even a word for our role. It is that aberrant, that abhorrent. Children whose parents die are called orphans. Parents whose children die have no name. They are called – nothing.
That’s what we feel. That’s what we are, nothing. Trying so hard to find a way out of this wasteland and be called survivors.