Sink or Swim

Kabhi alvida naa kehna/Never say goodbye 

I meant to go somewhere else a few weeks ago. I thought I knew the direction I was going, but life took me down an unanticipated path. I imagined that I would be able to present a less dramatic tale that considered the power and impact of dreaming. I imagined that I would be writing about the irony of drowning in dreams, which is thought to represent a ‘spiritual rebirth’. Instead, the wind grew stronger and the waves got bigger and I once again found myself drowning, but this time…he was there, asking for my hand, and I could not help him. I will eventually get to the other place I intended to go. But for now, it is important to stop here and realize for a little while. Follow this detour and the reflections it induced.

Dear D.A.D.,

I begin this in the name of love, and love alone.

I am sorry. I am so incredibly sorry.

Something appeared to me a few weeks ago. It presented itself as a ‘choice’. It seemed as if there was a decision that had to be made. The presenter of said ‘choice’ asked it in the form of a question, so there began the confusion.

 “Are you going to come?” She said very matter of fact.

When I hesitated, she barked,

“Is there anyone else?”

I was in shock. I could barely get the words out,

 “No… no there is not. It’s only me”.

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She didn’t have to let us see you. She didn’t need to let us love you. She could have made us hate you. But she took us to you. I am not sure what she really felt but I know that she always told me the same words, “He is still your father. He still loves you”. She never ever doubted it, and because of that, neither did I. We watched you rebuild a life over and over again. We always knew when you started again. We imagined how hard you were trying. We watched you build it slowly, piece by piece. And then… we watched it all crumble…. again and again…and again. Even when we would see you, I was always on the lookout.  I knew the signs. The slurring. The changes in tone. The quiet breaks where you would disappear for a moment. The anger. I never gave you space to realize your mistakes because I acted before you could hurt yourself by mistakenly putting us in danger. I could never be relaxed. I was never just a child. I was always anticipating. I was always waiting for it and sadly, it always came.  

“Mama, can you come pick us up. It’s time”.

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Before I got the call, I thought myself getting Stronger. Braver. Healing. And that is still very much true, but this phone call challenged that. In an instant I was drowning again and my world was filling with darkness. How can someone command so much power over you? The harsh reality pushed me back under. As the waves came crashing over me, my head reached out for a breath and I was pushed back down again.

It was not a choice. She presented in front of me what deceivingly seemed as a question, but no options were given.

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The officer described the living conditions as uninhabitable. “The stench of urine, alcohol and rotting garbage was so strong that we could not enter the room. Cockroaches were so pronounced that no space on the floor or walls could be found without. He was heavily intoxicated and could not stand. He has no recollection of the events that transpired”. And so they say, “He has no memory. This is not the place for him. He needs family. He needs someone to care for him”. They attempt to induce guilt, but they fail acknowledge that the system is broken and needs serious changes.  We need transitional support for those who want it.  Hospitals and jails cannot be the only options. 

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As the waves come crashing over you for the moment that you are under, the weight of it all pushes you so far down that the beauty of feeling nothing tempts you to just give in, but then simultaneously, it pushes you towards the shore and you remember again that you must persist.

You must survive. Instinctually. But also consciously. You deserve to exist.

At this point in my life, I am not even trying to get to the shore. I just want to be able to tread water for long enough to not to go under.

I looked up towards the sky for the answer.

I searched for the meaning. For an explanation.

Why is this happening? Why does it have to be so? Why is all of the weight coming down on me now? It was two days before the first birthday of my son, which was marking a significant milestone for me. A year of so many realizations. A year of painful awakenings. What should I do? What choice do I make? Do I go? There must be a reason for this I thought. What does it mean? Why now? Why in this way?

Please God, give me the answer.

“He is your dad right?” She said mockingly.

“So you are not coming then?”

I searched and asked and prayed. And then, I finally realized it. Choice implies an option. And without that, it ceases to be a choice. It only is, as it is. This was not about choosing, but about facing the reality that I have been fearing all along. The necessity. The need for survival. So the real question is not, will I be there, but would I let you use me to keep yourself afloat? Sink or swim to save myself. The illusion of choice presents it as if it is you or me, but it is not. It would be both of us. Using myself to save you doesn’t help us. It doesn’t save you the way ‘choice’ suggests. It actually just replaces you or me with both of us… and then there is nothing.

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I remember the first time I saw you after so many years. It was at the funeral of your brother, your partner in addiction and suffering, your only friend. I searched the rows for your face the way I remembered it. It had been so long. Suddenly, my mom nudged me and said, “He’s there. Do you see him?”. I looked ahead but could not find you. I was so confused. Where were you? And then it happened. Our eyes met. It was so shocking that I gasped. You were a shell of a person. An emaciated body with a dark cloud hanging over your head, tears welled up in your eyes as you caught my glance. I could hardly breathe from the overwhelming tears pouring from my eyes. You were nothing of what I remembered.  You were barely there. Completely broken. Physically maligned and emotionally drained. Afterwards you walked over, ever so slowly and reached out with your hands… head down… and we cried awhile. 

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I have so many memories… Of broken down windows and doors. Of packing up quietly and trying to leave in the middle of the night. Of scarred wrists and desperate performances. Of broken noses and bruises. Of cockroaches and landlord disputes. Of trepidation towards police and fed up doctors. Of packing up and setting up. Of hoarding and purging. Of losing it all and helping you find it again. Of fighting for you. Of feeding you. Of calling you. Of listening to you. Of turning my back on you. Of crying with you. Of laughing with you.

Somewhere I know that you would not want me to sacrifice myself. Somewhere I have to believe that you want more for me. I have to tell myself you are hurting. It is like the wounded animal, who when approached by what may be a helping hand, may attack in defence. You are afraid, you think you need someone to do this for you, but you will only hurt me and in turn harm yourself further. 

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“You should come see him”, said the nurse. “He would really like it if you could bring him some hot food…”

I will never forget the day I came to visit you at the hospital. I was so afraid. You begin by picking up the phone beside heavily locked doors. The nurse asks who you are here to see and informs you that you will be met at the end of the hall by a security guard who will escort you into the facility. Inside it was both loud and eerily quiet. I walked past the nursing station and turned in my bag. She rummaged through the bag and took out the plastic cutlery, leaving me with the styrofoam box of food and a few napkins. I walked to the entry of your door and saw the figure of a person laying in the fetal position, crying softly with only a thin sheet coving a blue hospital gown. “Dad” I said timidly. You did not even turn around. You stayed lying there until I approached you and put my hand on your shoulder. “Dad. It’s me”. You turned around slowing…crying faintly… to face me. “How are you?” I asked. “Beta. I am not okay”. “It’s okay Dad. I am here now”. What that must have meant for you then I cannot even begin to understand. To know you are not alone in the darkest of your days…in the most isolated and sad moment, to feel the warmth of a familiar presence. “I am hungry. They only have cold garbage they give you”. We sat while you took slow bites of the hot food I brought you until a loud alarm sounded and the doors locked behind us. I went to the small window of the heavy metal door to see a rush of nurses and security guards going to the room next door. When I left you that day my heart was heavy. Was this the place for you? I didn’t think so… but what was the right place? I fought for you to get help there, to get support. But like I said, the system is broken, and so you and me were back on our own in a few days. The day I picked you up, you had only a bag with old clothes soaked in urine and the bus ticket they gave you. I remember thinking, “Really world? We can do better. We must. This cannot be all we have to offer the people who need our help the most. A bus ticket.”

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I continuously tell myself that the only way I can be satisfied is by knowing that I have done as much as I could possibly do. That is supposed to make it okay. It has to be enough.

But it never ends there.

“It is not my job to convince you” she exclaimed.

“He is your Dad right?”

Yes. He is my Dad.

Yes. He has no one except for me.

And no, my heart is not black.

I am sorry. I am grieving. It is pouring out of my eyes. It is suffocating my breath.

It will not go. It will not fade. It remains.

But I can not go with you this time, as much as I want to.

As much as it hurts.

As much as I wish.

As much as I dream.

For the first time in my life I am truly at a crossroads where I know that I have no choice. This is a matter of survival and there is only one path left to take.

I have to decide to live…even if it means that you may not…

There is something about loss that will never make the pain any less. The event, experience, memory, or person. It does not get easier. You just find new ways to exist. You just hope to get stronger. You cannot pray for it to fade, for it to disappear, for it to just stop. It never stops. It never leaves you.

But somewhere you have to believe and trust that You deserve to survive.

That you deserve to not go under.

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It was August 2010, the day before you were leaving to go ‘back home’.   I took you to Swiss Chalet. We were greeted, seated and approached for our order.  You did not look him in the eye. You kept saying what a nice, ‘fancy’ restaurant it was. You were embarrassed and anxious, but also thrilled. I realized in that moment that you had likely never been to a sit down restaurant like this before. It was so unfamiliar to you. You live in your own poverty ridden, isolated and lonely world. The only thing you hold on to is your memories, and even those are barely there anymore. So if your memories are slipping away, then all you have to hold on to is loss. Of possibilities passed. I wonder if you ever dream anymore? I don’t think you can. But, you do not have nothing. You have regret. pain. suffering. Much more than any one person can, or should bear. After we left the restaurant we were driving and a song came on. You started to cry. I did not understand the words then but I could feel how sad and beautiful the song was…“Kabhi alvida naa kehna” . 

This is the song that played…and not by coincidence.

Kabhi alvida naa kehna/Never say goodbye

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4NwClbGLT3E

 chalte chalte mere ye geet yaad rakhna /While walking remember this song of mine

kabhi alwida na kehna / Never say goodbye

rote hanste bas yoon hi tum gungunate rehna/ Crying or laughing, keep humming like this

kabhi alwida na kehna/ Never say goodbye

beech raah mein dilbar bichhad jayen kahin hum agar/ If we ever get parted from each other in the middle of a path, my sweetheart 

aur sooni si lage tumhe jeevan ki yeh dagar/ You will find that the path/road of life is more lonely/empty

hum laut aayenge tum yoon hi bulate rehna/ If you keep calling me like this, I will come back

kabhi alvida naa kehna/ Never say goodbye

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“Honestly. You are either coming or your not. Court is a busy place. I have ten other people to call.” 

I could not even speak. I could barely hear anything over my breaking heart. I was reminded in that moment of the reality of a drowning person. When you are told never to approach the person in the water without something for them to hold on to because if you put out your hand they will use you to stay afloat, they will do whatever it takes. It will not be a choice. It will just happen out of instinct, out of the necessity for survival.

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The following is an excerpt from a letter I wrote you that day in 2010, after dinner. In a sense I have been writing this letter to you for my entire life. So much was there but I could not see it then, and surely there is so much more I will realize later. 

Dear D.A.D. 

I can’t even call you Dad because I feel guilty for allowing myself to love you. 

The one who I am being protected from. The one I am not supposed to love. The one I am supposed to hate. But the one I love so much. You are leaving tomorrow and I am not sure how to feel. 

My immediate feelings are sadness. I thought I would feel relief. But I feel sadness. Not just for your departure in this moment, but for a lifetime of feeling the pain of goodbye. I was never able to let go of you, or forget the feeling of love that I know you have for me deep in your heart. Even if your actions have not always shown this, I know that your life is full of losses. And losing us if your greatest loss. 

It will always haunt your life, just as you haunt me. 

Now I feel I have felt your heart as my own. I am a deeply affected person. I feel feelings intensely. Sadness deeply, love infinitely and unconditionally. And while the power of evil in this world is strong, love is always stronger. So much so that despite it all, I still love you. Your life has lasted longer than anyone could expect, and I often feel that your life has been prolonged so that you might feel the pain that you caused others. Death would be too easy. But I can’t help feeling sadness for your sickness, your struggles, your pain. It brings me back to you every time…Sadder still is that the poisons you have consumed, have consumed you and have overwhelmed your spirit. I don’t know if you really understand what you have done. Maybe you don’t remember. Maybe you do. Maybe you can’t. Sometimes we have to find ways to exist and we might consider, what would it mean to really accept the weight of all you have done? You would surely drown from all of those tears… I doubt you could  face it all… I hope that you know that I have done everything I could do to help you, with all of my love and all of my strength. I finally feel as though I have done everything I could… I can never say goodbye.  No one will know how I feel for you.  I hope that this sadness will haunt my life. I never want to forget how this feels. To feel this guilty love… this conflicted sadness for what could have been. For what never was. For what can never be. For what was. This love is a gift, and for that, I am thankful. 

Please always remember that I am of you, and so, you will always be with/in me.  

 Please don’t ruin what life you have left, and remember… never say goodbye.

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“He is still your father”

Sometimes people question why I help you. Why I have put myself in such dangerous and difficult situations.  The reason is because I always knew that you loved me, and because of the truth that I am now starting to understand. Despite how much pain you may have caused others, you have suffered more. Despite the promises you have broken, you have lost the most. And, despite the nightmares you have created, you no longer even have the capacity to dream.

Today is not easy. I want you to know that as much as I might want to drown with you, I can not. The choice is no longer as such. It is no longer simple. I am not waiting at the shore watching you struggle. I am not equipped to assist you myself. I am already in the water just trying to stay afloat.

I wish I was stronger.

A friend once told me, “you have to just ride the wave”. I have to stop fighting the current because it is a losing battle. Instead, I am trying to exist alongside it.

I must begin by acknowledging and believing that some things are deceivingly presented as a choice even when there is no option. So often, you find yourself endlessly searching for meaning in an attempt to explain away the pain. But this is a moment of realization. There is no simple or easy way to face it. Some things just do not have a clear explanation and that has to be okay.

There is nothing left for me to do. There is only space for me to know. 

realization. acceptance. being okay with trying to swim to save myself.

‘choosing’ myself.

I now have to accept the painful possibility that one day I hope to be swimming back towards the shore and I will look back on you. struggling. maybe drowning. and that will have to be okay.

Please know that even though this is not a choice, it is no less painful.

So Dad. I end this in the name of love, and love alone. I am sorry. I am so incredibly sorry.

“You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have” (B. Marley)

Never say goodbye.

*** Writing often involves much more than just words. #respecttheprocess ***

*HBD to mother. Dedicated to the women who let me love you, despite it all. There truly is no one more selfless. There is no trace of hate in your heart, only love.*