* Like A Book I  (w)Rote * - Apologia & Not.

      
"It" was never intended to be a fckng Hallmark Card.      
     
It wasn't even about Leah....she woulda laughed at that sloppy  sentimentality      
    of these mass-produced, pre-packaged, 'bereavement products', which      
    which people snap up on such occasions , which try to generically idealize      
    the memories of the deceased left to us morons on earth.      
     
Apologies to any of those so offended.      
     
Familial revue of The Book was one of quite amazing Silence. Naught was offered  a word....over 2 years now      
     
The book was a raw chronology of the grief and pain the loss of a child      
     triggered in MY little, precious world.        
     
I'm not going to subject her to the idiot idealization (a form of denial, if ever      
     there was one), that real people cling to for imaginary "comfort".      
     
I "knew" my daughter better than anyone, except possibly her Mom.  And despite      
   the "Leah wouldnt want....." this or that, or that she's up in heaven "watching over"      
   me & her other loved ones, so I better Get Happy quick as I can.  She'd say:      
   "Fuck that".      
     
I loved her so much.  Yes. She had trouble making her way in This Real World. She had      
    "issues" that she couldn't speak to nor deal with no matter what we did to "help".      
     
I'm sure I wouldn't have loved her better had she been "straight A, Valedictorian. Doctoral Candidate, not'alcoholic, dream child. But even them dream children have a way of hard falling within them, (and i've worked with many such kids      
 I respected and loved more for her      
       her failings than I could have had she been any better, or, god fobid, "near perfect"          
       as to our societal standards.   She was very intelligent, and a deeply more for what she was, and certainly not for what anyone thought she should have been (Mom included).        
She was Just another person, born into this world that thrives on it's own toxicity who just happened to come to me (and her Mom).      
               I still cannot stand that      
       she is "no longer of this earth". I don't want to hear another word about this neo-      
       fantasy of Closure. Even before she died, that fckn phrase always triggered my      
       bullshit alarm.      
I only wish I could have "been there" for more of her adulthood, though i do think I "helped" some in her early-adult trials.      
        I often wonder how it would've been had i not succumbed to living in Florida.      
        my heart-muscle took a turn for worse, I let my CHF say I shouldn't travel so much.      
The constant fatigue made me chronically lazy, but, in so-called reality, not so much as to not indulge in a few more trips.  Guilt is certainly counter-productive, but there's always enough left deep down ready to rip one's ass with grief. No matter how much you pay to therapists, death of your child is always with you MORE than most other deaths we have to deal with.      
     
 *The book in question is DEATH AND THE LADY'CHYLDE by Dan Kozak,*      
                                                    *at Lulu.com      
                                  (with deep thanks to the Poetic Medics,      
                                               Ahavati and Johnny Blaze)      
     
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                    ((( Leah Marie, '87-'18 )))