Swelling.
At first, I had tried building a dam with the only thing I have to use and that is just sand.
And it worked ok for a while but the Mississippi is relentless. It swells and rises. It beats and pushes. The dam was beaten and pummeled until just a tiny trickle managed to push through to the other side. Well! That was all it took for the water to take advantage of the weak and tenable hold the dam had holding it at bay. The water took its chance and rushed through the break and tore away at the sides more and more to gouge a Grand Canyon of free-flowing water.
And I was there being buffeted and pushed and screamed at by the water and spray. I frantically worked to fill in the space and built it back up. I fortified it with more and built it higher and thicker. I hit it with all the energy I had and the fortitude of my determination and patience and grit . . to which I have considerable amounts of.
But the dam I am making is still sand and sand is sand. Is it not? It was just a matter of time before the relentless pounding of the waters would break through again.
And it did.
And I fought back again.
And again.
And again.
Then, I tried to stem the flow and to see if diverting it would do anything. I gave it another path off to the side. Maybe I could get the water to do something. . . maybe be more productive. . . then, it will not batter and push and pummel the dam with such persistence if I could move it in a different direction. So I tried to maybe change the flow of water into a water wheel to try and get it turning and rolling around a bit.
It didn't matter though because sand is sand.
I fight and battle and work my ass off to keep back the waters knowing in my brain that it is insane to even try this and that it is a losing battle and that it will never work. But my heart . . . in my heart I fight. I fight until my hands bleed and my muscles cramp to hold it back .... to keep it from happening. I am doing this all the while crying out with tears streaming down my cheek because I know the futility of it all. I know it in my mind how useless it is to use sand for a dam. I know that no matter how many times I hold back the water it will keep getting through until I have nothing left. The heart doesn't listen to the mind with stuff like this.
My heart is refusing to accept this.
What is the saying? It is insanity to do the same thing over and over and expect it to change.
I wonder if he knows.
I wonder if he knows that in my mind I have come to the conclusion and accepted that we are at the point where what he wants cannot happen and what we want is never going to be what he wants. He has been thinking of suicide on and off for over two years and we have exhausted all possible help and interventions that we can think of. But in my mind, I will always remember when dad told me that if a person has decided that they don't want to live that there is nothing anyone can do. They will just die.
He was talking about the elderly but the more I am in this season of my life with my son, I am seeing that with some people that commit suicide, it is the same. And that is where I am with this dream of the Mississippi.
But there is more.
I live in fear of what I might find.
I wake up every morning and wonder, is he still here with us?
Then I am at work fearing a visit from the police with the devastating news.
Every text I receive gives me a stab of fear wondering if it is him. . . . if he is having another episode.
Then I come home from work and wonder if I will see his car in the driveway.
And then I reinforce the dam to try and hold back the water for the day.
And then the next day I do it all over again.
Day after day after day after day. . . . .
And I am in so much pain thinking. . . . wondering . . . Fearing. . . .has he decided already and I am doing all this for nothing because of what my dad said all those years ago?
No. My heart will not accept it. . . . will not give in.
So I keep going and going and going. And who knows when I will fall. Who knows when I will have nothing left.
Who knows when my nightmare will be a reality.
