Monday, August 29, 2016

Forgetting the Unforgettable

I was going to title this writing something about the processing of a turning point. Assuming, of course, that what I am about to describe actually is such a thing, and not just another example from a long list of head-jammed-in-my-butthole moments that decorate the landscape of my existence over the past several months.

How does one begin to even talk about all that time spent away? If ever I was plagued by self-doubt, fear, uncertainty...that time has been defined by my silence here. I don't know how to dig out of this hole I find myself in...uh, ew... no pun intended...but as a person who likes to write, as a father, family man, human race affiliate...I need to. I'm so checked out of everything. From everyone.

There are many things that require explanation, backstory. You know, TMI. I'm good at that if nothing else.

The only reason I don't dive in right now is because I want to try for once to get to the point and be done. The rest, I hope, sorts itself out in my head later as I go along. If I decide to go along. With this thing I mean.

Oh yeah...the point.

I completely, totally and utterly forgot Bennett's surgical anniversary on August 27th.

Driving this point home a little for anyone 2009 my son Bennett, at 21 months or so of age, had a big chunk of his brain gouged out to remove a Stage II Oligoastrocytoma. That's a tumor to all us lay-people. That year (and every year since) I've had an anxiety build-up leading towards the 27th, and the day itself has always been difficult for me. Defined by emotions uncontrolled. This year, everything was completely forgotten.

The only reason I remembered at all was because at the request of a good friend I've been checking in on Facebook a little lately and I saw one of those "Memories" flashbacky things they do, which was a link to a post I wrote here a year or two ago about Bennett's surgery.

After the shock wore off I found myself in an unforgiving circle of thought, wondering why I forgot. I am trying to figure it out still, especially since it isn't like he has moved on from being a severely disabled person. It isn't like our family isn't a shattered, awful mess because of what happened to him.

Like I said up top...I'm processing...but I don't think that this is necessarily a bad thing or a good thing

In fact, it might just be a thing. But it might be just the thing I've been looking to hang my hat on, in a psychological, philosophical and spiritual sense, for a while.

I'll have to let you know.



  1. Okay friend. First. So happy to see this pop up. So happy. And the second, about the missed date. You know me, more importantly you know Zoey, and we have a whole list of those dates. Heart surgery, seizure commencement, seizure freedom, cancer diagnosis, cancer freedom, etc. For the first time ever, I think I missed recognizing any of them. Not one. All were pivotal turning points in her little life. In my life. Her heart surgery, specifically, the one I call her "second birth", totally went by on August the 13th. Just passed. Like any other day. I think actually it's a good sign Ken. I think it means we have moved forward. Not forgotten. Not gotten over the heartache or the pain or fear. Just moved to a different place. Acceptance maybe. Perhaps as crazy as life still is, the passing of the anniversary is a moment of reflection of gratitude. That we are all still here. Moving. And figuring it all out. I don't know. Just my take I guess. In any case, welcome back.

  2. I agree. Certainly not something to feel guilty over. You were there, when it happened. And you are still there for him in 1000 ways you could not have imagined.

  3. About fucking time you're back. Glad to hear from you. Don't overthink it, just write and hit publish.

  4. this is how you dig yourself out of the hole you are in. You pave over some of the deeper sink holes in your memory and keep stepping up until your out.
    Your not discrediting the memory by forgetting to plow the annual fresh furrows of pain in your mind.
    It's okay. Beyond that it's's called healing, and you deserve to do that.
    Those anchors of grief/loss hold you down. It's okay to let go and stay in the present, being grateful for the here and now.
    (shit, now I have to go post this on my own blog replies because I am in need this advice too.)
    Peace be the journey

  5. I'm not a believer in the Never Forget cult. I think our muscles remember even if our brains don't --

    I sure am glad to read this, though, and know that you're still out there willing to share yourself with us, your devoted blog friends.


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