That Same Face

It’s quiet, with the exception of the beeps on my monitoring equipment. I know ...I have been here before. I am going in and out of consciousness, and it is getting harder and harder to breathe. My partner is watching me, wondering…I look at him, and see three wrinkles of worry on his forehead. I marvel at his handsome face, his few eye wrinkles, his graying temples, but he is much more, a truth body. Yes, I have learned so much from him. He knows death well, from cremating his own brother when was 18 from suicide, not to mention his parents in the recent past. It is a on to another life that he has prepared us for by making merit and being a monk many times. He smiles. Knowing I am trying to talk, he leans closer to the bed. With a slight smile, I manage to whisper, “I get it,” before slipping into a subtle mind just before death.








Now, back it up. Where or what proceeded this, you ask?


I recently watched Revolutionary Road, and Kate Winslet in a moment of hopelessness of seeing her dreams scattered like ashes…had that face. I said I know that face, and it all came back to me.
My father drunk, sarcastically bitching at my Mom while she was making dinner for the six of us. My Mom’s hands were wet, she had a towel in one hand, and things were burning in the kitchen. She was leaning on the kitchen door frame, just looking at him with the same pained expression, and a tear flowed down one cheek. The four of us kids were avoiding coming to the table to endure, yet another one of his rages. What will he do this time? Mom was torn up, she can never do it, be good enough for him and she had nowhere to go, with the four us attached. She turned around and said, “Fine” and poured herself a glass of wine. She continued on fixing our dinner, tears were flowing down now and falling onto our plates. “Kid’s, you know your father.” Pissed off she would not engage him anymore, he got up from his regular throne, a chair at the table, slamming the door and taking off in his car. Mom would still try to serve dinner, but was so overwrought. I was sick of it, and took off to my room, dinner was not that important. Later my Mom would try to make up for the love that she and us did not get from my father. At times it was too smothering for me, being in junior high…moms were supposed to give you twenty paces, plus I saw right through it. I would say that you can’t make up for him.





Now years later I know what I got from my mom, was the ability to love someone, love myself and this formed my successful relationships. Lucky, I have no kids to worry about having to feed and clothe. I pity the situation she was in back then, and am glad she is happy now. She paid a hell of a price for us kids. Thank you Mom, and I really owe you my life. Yes, I finally get it.
The top photo is by my partner of the cremation of a family friend. A dear father figure who helped him as a child, when his father took off drinking, leaving his mom to raise her 4 kids without him.