When you’ve been in pain for eleven years, you get used to the constant ache in your chest. I think the worst part about it isn’t the ache but the inability to get rid of it.
My past is lost to me. There are periods of time I cannot recall, and I do not have the ability to go back. The present is the most tangible thing around me, yet the pain is all I feel. I yearn to change it all, to see how a different path would have been, but I would not be me if that could be, so I’m learning to be content with missing what was lost to me. Maybe the ache will go away,
…but I doubt that.
The present is the most tangible thing around me, yet the pain is all I feel.
We drive in silence, my brother finding music to fill the void while I focus on the road lined with trees stretching out in front of us. We live in a pretty State, I think to myself, feeling a twinge in my chest.
“Hey, can you play ‘1994’ by Cavetown?” I ask him.
“Sure thing.”
It begins to play and we sing along, our voices adding deeper meaning to the words.
…the kids have grown up, I feel like I’m stuck
But I don’t wanna catch up right now…
I’m transported back to memories of home. Of childhood. I look over at my brother and wonder if he remembers what we never discuss. Does he remember the beaches, the roads that were in a constant state of traffic, the bread filled with cheese, or the classroom where we played with those who never heard the sound of our voice? Because I do, and it hurts to remember alone.
Because I do, and it hurts to remember alone.
But do I dare bring it up, to start a conversation about a time and place that we will never go back to? I think better of it and keep it to myself. Maybe someday we will sit down and talk about it all, remembering who we were. For now, all I can do is try and hold onto what I believe to be my heritage, clinging to it like a fly caught in a web.
“Hey, I’m hungry,” he says, “wanna go grab some sushi?”
“Definitely.” I smile, forgetting the hurt that is still bubbling inside of me.
Madeline grew up as an MK in the Philippines with her parents and brother. She and her family worked with the deaf and started a deaf center in Mactan. When she was ten, they moved to upstate New York to be pastors. Madeline has missed her home ever since. She has worked at retreats/camps with other MKs and plans to work with MKs full-time in the future to help them through transitions.
