About Moxie Girl Musings

Moxie Girl Musings is about starting over from square one after tragedy impacted my young family. It's filled with stories of triumph, struggle, snafus, hopes, and dreams. Sometimes there will be features from other writers that I like and every so often I'll include an original short story, but normally I simply write what's on my mind at the time. Welcome to my unfiltered true-life story as I figure out this thing called life. http://www.amberleaeaston.com

Monday, October 18, 2010

Pause. Rewind. Play.

I organized my DVDs and videos this weekend.  As I sorted through the piles, I pulled out a few that were filmed by tour companies during our many vacations over the years.  You know the ones with the cheesy music, shots of strangers you shared the adventure with and sold by whatever tour company you were with on that particular day?  Well, I convinced--okay, I begged--the kids to sit and watch with me.  As we ooed and ahhed over how cute Briahna was when she was only five years old and swimming with stingrays in the Cayman Islands, a pattern revealed itself.  Even though we were still a family of four at the time, only glimpses of Sean were seen in each video.

A desperation came over me to see him live and in action again.  I paused and rewound video.  Then I would see him, just a brief glimpse of a smile or a leg or an arm or the back of his head, but always as a glimpse.  There were many shots of the kids and me, almost an embarrassing amount.  But rarely Sean.

As we made our way from a decade ago to more recent times, the pattern of the three of us--Briahna, Ben and me--became clear.  It has always been this way, even when Sean lived.  I don't know how many times we would be snorkeling or diving when I would look up and realize he had disappeared.  That's how he was, always in his own head, always doing his own thing, always choosing to be alone, always uncomfortable in his own skin.  He chose to stay out of the picture.  He chose to watch.  He chose to end his life. 

Watching the images of past vacations did not make me sad.  The kids and I enjoyed them.  My desperation to see Sean in motion again faded away into a sense of acceptance for who he truly was.  Maybe I needed that reminder of how our life was with me always looking for him and him always disappearing.

After awhile I stopped pausing and rewinding, much to the relief of the kids.  There is only so much pausing and rewinding we can do in our lives.  Looking back, analyzing what was, studying the why or the how becomes redundant. It is.  It was.

Play.  

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