Emotional Release

Its hard for me to write about an extremely emotional experience in my life. It would seem as though I have a reputation for being a goofy, silly happy person all the time. As a matter of fact, as hard as I tried I couldn’t come up with one intense time of emotional happiness. Its not that I don’t have happy moments, its just that most, if not all of them are shallow and based on a moment of something I received as a gift. That’s not exactly true, because their have been moments when I saw someone close to me after a long time of separation. However, I don’t feel as though those moments are something I could talk about thoroughly enough. Its not that I wasn’t glad to see those certain people, its just that I wouldn’t have much to say about those moments and those are not the kind of moments that really need any form of release from me.
Other than the other two mentioned above, the only kind of intense moments of happiness I could think of were ones that stem from some form of intense sadness. Since I don’t wish to talk on the matters behind those happy moments, I wont. Well, that really only leaves emotional moments of sadness, and believe it or not, I got a lot of reasons to be sad. Yes, I said got. I figure since I still am that same Happy-Go-Lucky Omar, I should find some way to make this almost funny, even if its just using got instead of have.
Anyway, there are times of emotional distress that I would rather not discuss. That leaves me with few options as to what I am willing to share with a class of people who, very accurately, picture me as some goofball and probably expected this to be some silly story lacking any depth or maturity whatsoever. They’re (or rather you all because you will be reading this) not wrong for thinking that’s what this is going to be about. Actually, I am still trying to think of something that wont make me cry. No luck.
Before I tell of my time of sadness, I should probably ease my way into it with some form of introduction.
I grew up in a home (series of “homes”) with just my mother and my brother. I love both of them. Eventually, it was just me and mother, for reasons I don’t think I need to share. No, my brother didn’t die, if you came to that conclusion. Anyways, he is still very important to me and my mother. She still calls me Sirgeo sometimes, even though I know, she knows and you know that I’m Omar. They’ve had their skirmishes as all parents and teenagers do. I felt a little overlooked at times because my mother had to focus on my brother and because my brother is six years older than me, he really didn’t have time for me and his friends. If I went into detail that could be my time of intense emotion, sadness and sometimes anger. However, its not. Even though they had their own things to think about, I never doubted that they loved me. Looking back, I understand a lot about why things were the way they were. My brother had a lot of reasons to be angry and sad. And my mother… well I liked to quote Tupac on this one, he says in his song Dear Mama “ I finally understand for a woman it aint easy, trying to raise a man.” That sums up everything about how and why things were the way they were.
One of the reasons why I wrote the things that I wrote concerning these two was to give a little background to how things were at some point for me. What I really need you to understand is that I really love them. Maybe it isn’t love and perhaps its because of what Ammu said in The God of Small Things, humans are creatures of habit and I’m used to their bickering and whatnot. Just kidding. I really do love my mother and my brother. I was trying to highlight that things were hard for them as well as me, and through all of it, they still managed to show me that they cared for me.
Now that you know all that, you will understand why this was a sad moment for me. I think it was sometime after my brother told me that he was in a car accident. I had a dream that my brother and my mother had died. It’s a very scary thought to have to think about having the two people that mean the most to me die. I can’t put into words how bad it made me feel, but know that I cried. That’s actually kind of pathetic now that I think about it. Crying over the THOUGHT of losing them, rather than actually losing them. However, I did cry and now you know. I suppose that I realized that they were always the ones that stayed strong through all our hardships and if they died what chance would I have. Maybe that was it, maybe not. Quite frankly, I don’t want to think about it.