You’ll exhaust yourself trying to squeeze every last drop out of you and into the hands of another in hopes that they will grasp full understanding of every particle that is carried — let alone the ocean you hold. And upon misunderstanding, tears rush down your face, you choke upon your words with every restless attempt to simply express in clarity but you struggle, and when they ask, “why?”, their misunderstanding alone is your answer.
Why was the heart concealed to begin with? Why is every emotional distress or joy an internal feeling which before any physical portrayal, is felt within, disclosed, hidden? To what extent will we go in trying to click perfectly with someone; someone who understands us to the core, every unspoken thing, expected to be perfectly translated by their supposed knowledge of us.
No matter what attempt you put forth, your relationship will remain creation-to-creation. There will be a barrier which nothing will ever uproot.
Here, suffering becomes our choice. Either exhaust yourself trying to spill yourself to myriads, hoping to be understood, neglecting the obvious barriers that makes creation lack the attribute of being all-knowing; or, try to guide your emotion with logic, and find truth by doing so.
Give me a story where one of Bruce’s children has a kid (it doesn’t matter who, but Jason would be so sweet as a father) and Bruce is blown away by the fact that he is a grandfather. Where he’s standing there holding this tiny baby in his arms and he’s completely lost for words. He’s never been good with words, but now he can’t even begin to form them.
Because this is something he never expected. Not in a million years did he imagine himself as a grandfather. He had seen his life going down a very specific path when he was young. A very specific, very lonely path. Long term attachments had been outlawed to him by his choice of lifestyle, and children were even more out of the question.
He’d always known what the cape and cowl meant: an end to the Wayne family line. He had no siblings, and no close relatives. No one to continue the historical name, and he’d been ok with it. Or at least he thought he had. So when Dick, then Jason, Cass, Tim, and Damian had come they’d each been a surprise. A happy surprise, a surprise that was to Bruce always fleeting. Especially when he lost them, especially when he got them back.
So no, he hadn’t expected a grandchild. Not when everyone of his own kids had followed his footsteps. They’d all done it in their own unique way, but Bruce still saw what they did as a road with one outcome. That outcome was never settling down, never finding ‘the one’, and never starting their own family.
Yet. Here he stood, holding, not just the next generation, but the third generation of the Wayne name after his parents. Bright and bubbly, in his arms there was life, and with life hope for the future. Not just the future of his family, but the future in general. Because if a man like him could be so lucky to have made it to becoming a grandfather, then the world was better than he’d thought it was.
Saying goodbye is never the hardest part. It is everything that comes after. It is getting up in the morning and reaching across the sheets to find the other side of the bed empty. It is making two cups of coffee out of habit and pouring the leftovers down the sink. It is wanting to share a good story and remembering that no one’s there to listen. It is an empty drawer and shattered picture frames, it is glass shards littering the floor and red wine spilled on the carpet. It is constantly pondering about what you did wrong and why you always seem to push people away. It is throat burning after taking too many shots and stumbling into someone else’s arms. It is driving past his house and having to stop the car to take a deep breath. It is meeting him again; it’s avoiding eye contact or careful smiles and holding back the tears. And it’s never easy. It is having to say goodbye not once, but over and over, like a broken record. And one day, the word goodbye will feel numb on your tongue, so you’ll say hello instead. You’ll say I’ll try instead of I can’t do this. That’s when you’ll know you’re ready.
It was at that moment my life flipped turned upside down. Knowing that I had immediately adopted the struggles of all LGBT individuals was not a small load to bear. The assaults, the constant fear, the hatred… all became one with my identity.
I wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment, I sneaked out of school early and stumbled my way home, making sure to not give eye contact to anyone in case they beat me to death right then and there.
I flung open my front door, my delicate white face muddled with fear and confusion. My parents sat quietly in the living room.
“guyss, ii,m LITEERr,,ALLY shAKing,” I blurted out
My dad turned to me, concerned. He lowered his glasses.