Depression? Depression, these are my letter-friends. They help me get through your infrequent visits; they hang around long after you have swept through my life, leaving sadness and darkness in your wake. They hang in here with me, so guess what. I don't run away and hide any more. I no longer have to make excuses for the damage you leave behind--that's written all over my body and face. So, go ahead and get gone!
Sadness often disguises itself as depression, so I'm not always sure who's who, or what's what, but today I know I have been down in the valley for a reason. O-Bird's father passed on. I didn't get to see her today; her parents live in South Africa. She sent me an e-mail on Monday. I have been fighting whatever has been tugging at my tail feathers since then, never thinking her father's death would affect me.
I mean, my dad has been dead since . . . I don't know when he passed. See? I think that's part of what's making me sadder. I wasn't at his funeral. I heard his last breath though--felt it brush against my cheek. A phone call minutes later confirmed his passing. I asked Uncle Kelly, "He's dead, isn't he? When did he did? What time?" It was the time the microwave's clock showed when I jumped up from the chair to look. Because I knew.
I think my sadness over O-Bird's loss has more to do with my own past. And maybe I envy her a bit. I wouldn't fly to Dallas from the Carolinas, yet she dropped everything to fly from Houston to SA.
Patty understands the part that's coming up. Maybe some of you will as well, but in a nut shell . . . I have a past history of pain caused by a Christmas doll. My sister and I didn't get identical dolls for the first time in our young lives. The differences in toys that year still make it a little hard for me to swallow the lump that always tries to rise up.
Bookmark this part. We'll be back later . . . And, yes, there's mail involved.
When ever O-Bird goes home for a long vacation, I panic. Not sure how I will make it without her, she reminds me, "I'm only an e-mail away." Nothing bad ever happens while she is away, but still . . . And, when she returns, safe and sound, and full of stories about her home and childhood, I wish she could have stayed longer. She brings back photographs of things like elephants. Imagine it: O-Bird among the elephants! I love the green SA of her images.
And she brings dolls.
She brings me a doll.
I have to go now 'cause I cannot hold back the tears.