I was working on my journal today, and found myself using the first-person singular. At first, it felt wrong. There was a name missing. It seemed Lisa was among the missing.
Then something dawned on me: somebody else had been missing, too.
After she died, I went into a depressive cycle that at the time I thought was the worst thing I’d ever felt. Then came the exclusion order. That, I thought, was beyond the pale. This was the surreal come true. I don’t mind admitting these things; they’re true, firstly, and now I’m arriving at (HOPEFULLY) the other end of all this. We shall see.
I had in effect lost myself. As Facebook friends remind me, the disappearing act started a long time ago now. This is going to end. It has to.
In racing, drivers often don’t use the first-person singular. Dale Earnhardt Sr. was one of those who believed so much in the idea of a team that nothing he did was a solo act. I always felt that way with Lisa. If I wrote a halfway-decent poem, I knew it was because she was in the room, or she said something that kickstarted a revision, something. Oh, she’s still with me, be sure.
But it’s never just me. And it never will be.