I went to the cemetery today. Just for a few minutes...just to remember.
I told Steve the other day that I can't really stand to visit there anymore because it's like a colossal monument to my failures as a woman and mother...it's like my own little battlefield strewn with the bodies of lost soldiers.
It's getting to be a lot like one of those Memorial Day remembrance ceremonies where they read the names and you think to yourself, "Is this going to last all afternoon? We have brunch reservations."
Individually, I still remember them as best I can, what with all the historical re-writes and the pickling of my brain from too much wine and ambien. All the insignificant details that will be lost forever as time erases them from my memory. I don't know whether to hope for that relief or not. What kind of mother hopes for the peace that comes from forgetting her children? And I don't EVER want Sam and Myles to think they aren't enough. So I hope that they can fill up as much space in my memory as possible? So I hope that we have enough happiness together to help me forget?
I'm so tired.
And there is no counter-attack that will avenge their loss. Everything that was supposed to be easy...everything women have been doing for centuries...I wasn't able to do it...and they paid the priced. There will be no justice for them until the day I die.
Until then, I hope to forget. And yet...I still feel compelled to visit my babies in that cemetery...and remember.