black tearsI told Dr. D that I realize I don’t trust as fluidly since my brother died.

There is a sense of betrayal by him because of committing suicide.

I vomited out my heart the day he died.

We talked about getting some old violin so I can write him letters and put notes in there about things I remember we did together, about when he discovered he was HIV positive and when he picked up and left the state, did his thing with music, went to Spain, went back home to New York and died. There’s a lot I’d like to write and put inside the heart of those strings.

My favorite instrument is the cello. I’m a strings girl. He was a violinist.

I want to tell him I was at his recital when he was 15. He gave it at the Children’s Museum here in Indy.

I want to tell him I’m proud of him for not accepting that a man with large hands can’t play the violin. He grew to 6’5. When he began to struggle he hired a man to help him learn to play at his size. He loved the violin and he was bound and determined to play and play well.

His blogs sit still. On his pages, my Vivaldi Kid bragged about promiscuity and drugs. He bragged about partying it up in college and then his life changed forever. A boy running on nothing but hormones hooking up with other boys running on hormones is nothing short of a disaster.

I want to tell him that I am sorry his grandmother said those things to him. I’m sorry things worked out like they did. I want to tell him I hated that his hair looked better than mine. His dreadlocks were sweet!!!

He was the last male with the family name.

I want to tell him it was me that called the police on our mother. I called child protection services because I couldn’t let him grow up like me. She upped the abuse the same time she did with me, age three. That age for him was a near miss to seeing four.

I want to tell him I’m sorry that I left him that night. I didn’t expect him to live. He wasn’t even screaming anymore. He was just a red, three year old body making those sounds when the body is hit. My baby boy was left with her because I was too afraid to go in the room and stop her. The look on her face, my goodness, she was crazy. She told my sister and I to go back to bed. The look in her eye said crazy and were horrified. My sister, white as a ghost, turned and went back to bed. I did too. I put the pillow over my head and tried not to hear anything. I did not expect him to live through that. When he did I made the move to call child protection services. When they removed him from our home my life changed forever. My God it broke me. It broke me.

Last year I saw a magnificent glass sculpture of a skeleton playing the violin. I don’t like skeleton art but that glass sculpture was beautiful.

huggable. I want to tell him how proud I was that he searched the earth until he found his happiness. I won’t tell him the world insulted him when it kept spinning after he died. I keep hanging on to that thought. It was like it was nothing at all. It made me feel small, insignificant, like it doesn’t matter if people die because the world will keep right on spinning as if we haven’t been brought to our knees with grief. I can’t seem to let go of that offense.

I will get that violin. I’m going to weep over it. I’m going to be angry with it, but at least my grief will have a direction instead of just spinning so tightly. I’ll bury it. Eventually I’ll bury the violin and let my boy go. For my personal note – Ebay violins. I didn’t realize I could get one for about $30 off Ebay including shipping. I guess I know what I’m aiming for price wise. He’s even a US seller with a ton of these things. I didn’t realize it would be so easy to find one at a price I can do. I’m not going to play it, I’m going to fill it with letters. I saw miniature violins which I’ll shoot for to put in the dollhouse. There’s a lot to do when you keep on keeping on.

Dr. D gave me art assignments. Ok. I’ll do it.

May 2, 2017 – 2:43 pm EST

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3 thoughts on “Therapy Review: My Vivaldi Kid. Grief.

  1. Do you mind if I reblog this? It’s beautiful. I think “reblog” is one of the options you can control. Or I could copy giving you the credit due you and your blog. You are truly remarkable. I regret being too old to begin fine art purchases–81. Getting rid of stuff, not taking it in. Come visit me sometime.


    1. Thank you for asking about reblog. I don’t want people to do that. I appreciate the sentiment but please respect my copyright as stated on the sidebar that all content, words and art are copyright to Sundrip with all rights reserved. It states that I don’t allow the use of my work free of charge. Despite what WordPress allows, which is upsetting to many bloggers, reblogging removes control of personal content and makes it appear to be ok. For many it is not.
      Thank you for asking but I must say no.
      Sundrip Journals

No need to feel nervous, comment if you'd like.

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