The Unattainable Cure

(The 5th and final installation in the Jaded Depression series. Hope I gave you enough information for the final. Bring a #2 pencil...)

"You don't know what you got 'til it's gone."

Ain't that the damn truth?

You know what I used to have that helped keep my depression to a minimum, made things better, provided comfort so that I can have the peace of mind to fix shit?

Grandma.

And I didn't realize it until she was gone.



With her I had a place to rest my head and cry when I needed it. A place to hide from the world uninterrupted for as long as I needed in order to regroup. She left me alone but not really, because I knew at any moment I could just go up to her and get a hug- no questions asked- and she'd smell like agua florida and it was all I needed sometimes.



I don't have any semblance of that these days because she's gone, Mami is not that kind of mom and Papi is all the way in Santo Domingo and the last thing I want to do is worry him by saying "no" when he asks me if I'm OK.



Did I decide this is what I needed in order to feel better only because I cannot have it? That is a possibility. But I can honestly pinpoint the demise of my psyche to the very month she got on that plane to move back to the Dominican Republic. As if I knew it was the last time I would see her alive.

And that my life as I knew it was over.



I don't know how to fix that, or if it's even fixable.

*smooches...unsure of where to go from here*
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except to immerse myself in more words... offline.

(and PS- it really doesn't help that as I was writing this, Pandora decided to play The Beatles' Yesterday, Kool & the Gang's Cherish, No Doubts' Running and Hector Lavoe's Todo Tiene Su Final back to back. Knife... heart... deep...)