I woke up this morning with the sheer determination that I will learn how to drive today. At least, learn to start the car. Sofie is going to big school soon and it will be difficult for hubby to drive her everywhere. So, with butterflies in my stomach we went to the cemetery (can’t do much damage there) for a little driving lesson after dropping off the diva.
See, ignoring the law really brings you no good. Right at the gate there’s this big sign that says “No, practice driving”. Rules schmules! Ignored it right off. We went around and paid a little visit to my brother then hubby handed me the keys and made me sit in the driver’s seat. He told me about the gears, the clutch, gas and break. I made sure I remembered the break well. He told me to step on the clutch and put the key on the ignition. Tadaaaa! I started the car! Now, it’s time to get moving. Right. Hubby said that it should be the right mix of stepping on the clutch and the gas. In my head all I kept thinking was “The break is in the middle, just hit the breaks and nothing will happen.” I tell myself, “Your father and brother are really good drivers, it’s in the genes” I stepped on the clutch and slowly stepped on the gas… well maybe not slow enough. The car lurched forward really fast, I freaked and stepped on the gas. Thank God for seatbelts! Hubby said that I should step on it slowly,said something that implied it’s better to learn from a driving school and for about 30 seconds he freaked. Well, maybe not so much. But in my head, he really freaked. I went over to the passenger side and pouted myself silly. Yeah, pouted like a teenybopper that I’m not.
For some stupid reason, I started crying. Hubby was saying sorry and tried to comfort me. Even offered shopping. Bribery! I still kept crying and it was hubby who told me that it was no longer about driving anymore. He was right. My dad and my eldest brother were really good drivers. I always thought that I would learn from them. When my Dad taught my brother how to drive I was often in the back seat, listening to his gentle instructions. Together, they made it look really easy. Too bad they’re no longer here to teach me. So, I cried and cried and cried. Hubby cried with me too.
After so many years, I’m still not done mourning. Then I thought about my mom, my dad and my brother and the things we didn’t get to do and can’t do anymore and it hit me. Even at 33, I still feel like an orphan. There’s a sense of loss, of an empty space that I can’t fill anymore, even with my kids and my husband who loves me and I love so much.
There’s still a part of me that is bereft. Orphaned.
I haven’t cried in a while and I’m so thankful I married a kind, understanding, loving and hot man who understands all the crap that’s in my head. Has the ability to sift through it and still see the beauty in me. I may have empty spaces in my heart but he manages to make the other parts thrive with color that they don’t seem to hurt so much anymore.
Yeah, yeah so I went into catharsis overdrive and thought about what would happen to my kids if something happens to me. Will they be strong enough? Will they be ready? Yadayadayada! If youare a parent, you know what I mean. Nostalgia turned into worry and worry into paranoia. I need therapy. Retail therapy.
After hubby left for work, withthekids cleaned and fed, I trooped to the nearest mall and basked in the joy of Mango and Bayo sale. Yup. Cured me right up! Haha! Enough of the heavy!
Will post pics of my purchases soon.