Every day I get to come home after spending the day with Lance. It feels strange, the house is really quiet, there is no background of Vinny announcing the Dodger game, or channels changing so quickly, rolling by frozen like single frames of a disjointed movie. If you land on one, it tells a story, but scrolled through it is mind numbing. He never stopped flipping channels. Now I understand, but I didn’t get to have “control of the remote”...for television anyway.
I don’t want the remote control I was handed. Not now. Too bad though, it’s all you have right now. The big black cable box remote. I was correct in not going to battle for it for the past 30 years. It was important for him to have even that tiny bit of control, not me. And now he doesn’t have it.
He passed the really important remote control to me when he got sick. He gave it to me, this responsibility, and yet there is something larger, with an even bigger remote control in his/her hand now. I best I relax some and just let it happen, as it will. I can push all of the buttons and nothing will change. I would dearly love to change life channels at the moment. Instead, I will embrace this with the love it was given.
Control. It really should be a four letter word equivalent. I would like having it as one, way more than the ones so popular today. Imagine being pissed off and saying to someone, “Control you!” Or how about, “Why don’t you go control yourself?” Or, “You control.” Or, “Stick a sock up your control.”
If you look at the word long enough, break it into syllables or just letters, let them roll it off your tongue...chew on them and spit them out, it doesn’t hurt. Saying it doesn’t always hurt, doing it sometimes can. In fact words lose their power if you stare at them too long. dissecting them into meaningless groups.
Having control isn't always bad, though it sure isn't what it is cracked up to be.