Sponge Analogies Are Dumb.

I was on a video chat with  my brother.  My  mom and dad, along with their dog, are in Wyoming for a short visit with their grandchildren.

My parents needed to be with the carefree energy of the smalls.  I understand that pull. When you lose something so incredibly close, there is the pull from your soul that begs you closer to what was lost.  It’s not a replacement, it’s an augmentation.

We can’t replace what Z gave to any of us, but we can look to the love we get from others to… fill the hole?  It’s not really that.

It’s kind of like if you have a bunch of sponges and take one out.  You can’t get  more sponges, but you can fill the remaining sponges with more water to make them expand.

What am I even saying?  Sponges? How do I explain why having the smalls close by helps?  I can’t explain it, but I understand it in my gut and the sponge analogy is a disaster.  Don’t read that part.

While I was on the call, my parent’s dog ran into the video.  My mom named her Pixie, and Z promptly renamed her Pix-a-poon-a-roonie. You have to say it fast, all mushed together.

I went to say something about Pix-a-poon-a-roonie to my neice, but it got caught in my throat.  I couldn’t make it come out.  I called her Pixie and moved on.

That crazy nick-name was Z’s thing – we all just copied her silliness.  It got stuck inside because it felt *off*.  Like I was intruding on her space, her thing.

I find myself setting up mental alters to her memory.  I don’t have the photos with candles in the dining room, but I do have these… mental spaces(?) that I can’t go into.  Things she did that I can’t do without her.  She’s not here to listen to me copy her silliness or shine, it’s no longer a fun thing we did that I now do on my own; Now it’s invading something I can’t name. I can only feel it. It’s the space she left behind (that can’t be filled with a water-filled sponge, apparently).

I can’t call my dog “Taco-Belly-Button”.  I can’t loudly proclaim a pajama day and swing my arms in the air.  I can’t sing my banana song (which I did just to prod her into telling me that I was not as funny as I think I am).  Those were her things, no mine.  Doing them without her seems irreverent.

But I do have the dogs here that she loved.  And I can hug them a little tighter and call them by their actual names.

Also, do not try to explain your shitty feelings with sponges.  0 Stars.  Would not recommend.


2 thoughts on “Sponge Analogies Are Dumb.

  1. Laura Grant September 18, 2017 / 920179America/Detroit

    My girls have “Daytime Pajamas”, thanks to Z.


  2. scottjohnsonphotograph September 18, 2017 / 920179America/Detroit

    Arms waving akimbo “pajama day, pajama day” was one of my fondest memories. Oh how she could make the room light up with so little effort.


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