Daddy Long Legs
My friend who lives far, far away wrote an email this morning saying that his father had fallen, and wouldn’t be alive for much longer. He had lots of head trauma, broken ribs, and was old, and it was time folks started saying their goodbyes.
I winced and sent him my love and a dynamic storm began to brew in me. I was sad for him and jealous, jealous of his relationship with his father, jealous that he had emotional access to the inconvenience of dropping everything and speeding back from foreign lands to nurture the last vestiges of a relationship he’d called home. “Even in this tragedy, you’re so lucky,” I thought. I was jealous he had a relationship to mourn.
I was at a party the other day and the hosts thanked their parents for how they had raised them. Again, I grimaced and a small drizzle of rain began to move in me. Here was a faint joy, but also deep sighs of sadness. These days, I am walking around in fog.
Is this how it’s going to be forever? Every time someone mentions their parents, will sorrow make its abode in my home? This new feeling of orphan-hood is a strange sensation.
A Daddy long legs spider took up residence in my room this morning and I almost killed it. I caught it in the corner of the room after reading my friend’s email. Somehow, my subconscious knew that I should let it go instead of killing it and I enlisted my roommate to convince me of this. Our exchange went something like this:
Me: [said crankily] Muhhh, I want to kill this spider.
My roommate: No , don’t.
Me: Muhhh, okay I won’t.
Carefully we placed a glass over its fragile head and shoved a thick envelope under its delicate body.
Here was Fred — I named it Fred — far away from home, still as Time, caught somewhere between storms brewing inside of me and the potential refuge of the outside world, totally oblivious to both.
For a moment I felt comforted by this scene. The world is so vast, and there are happenings right under my eye that have nothing to do with me, happenings with their own dramas and joys and terrors that are not mine to bear.
I so appreciate your openess in feeling jealousy- I feel so ashamed when I have that feeling although I very often do. I think it probably is often a common part of grief, too, because it has to do with what we don’t have and do long for. Beautiful writing. Thank you.
Oh Chloe, this was so beautiful. Grief is such a long road, and estrangement is its own kind of peculiar grief. But it is necessary for some of us, and incredibly brave. Thank you for saving the daddy long legs...there was a lot of symbolism in this act.