My definition of guttural……..

I’ve always kinda thought this word meant something along the lines of “when your body is so emotionally outta control, crying happens… it’s strange… from the heart… from the gut…. There’s no stopping it.. It’s a “hurt/feel good” kinda thing.

Apparently, I’m wrong. According to Merriam-Webster, it moreso means “articulated in the throat”…

Well…. That’s kinda close I guess.. The #3 listing as a definition “being or marked by utterance that is strange, unpleasant, or disagreeable.”

Still not what I was looking for, but, close… I’ll take it.

Such was the case today: guttural.

Attended the visitation of the mother of one of the gals I went to school with for many years. To be frank, I’m not so sure I’ve talked to this gal on the phone more than five times in our lives - yet still, an attachment to her.

She, like I, is from a nuclear family of four. Her brother, and her folks. She, like I, lost a sibling at wayinthehell too early an age. I loved her brother. We played baseball together long ago. He, 18 months my junior, looked, three years my senior. And he was good. And he was a nifty, nice person. A smile “to die for.” Cancer in his 20’s. Didn’t take long. Not fair.

Her dad. You could tell why the son was sucha nice guy - ‘cause he emulated his dad. ALWAYS A SMILE. Looms large. Dad passed awhile back too.

So… just my friend and her mom… now she’s gone. I am very sorry she’s joined “my club”, the last remaining one in the nuclear family. I’m comforted somewhat in that she’s got a whole lotta kids, and even more grandkids.. A loving, nurturing spouse.. So, much support.

Still, them innards get one guttural. She may soon have a houseful of twenty, yet still feel “that emptiness.” I sooooooooo wanted to say to her, if you ever wanna talk, lean on my shoulder, discuss, cuss, cry, ask WHY - please do so. Instead, I simply said “I’m so very sorry.”

She might notta even realized I too was in this unwanted club. The way I see it, just being there, as the child of a parent you are to bury that day - is an ‘accomplishment’ of sorts.

Fleeting. I wasn’t there long - but, I peered over the nice display of pics from yesteryears.. Many a smile in doing so.. To see her brother again… her handsome, friendly pa… her mom.. Her kids.. (who several I had in Elementary PE class.)… Memories.

Tis what we’re left with memories. (For a short, please scroll to “just a minute” and why that’s so important.)

So I left the church, headed to work. And, then I went guttural. Emotion took over. I saw her bother there. I saw my sister there. I saw our folks sitting in the bleachers at the little league game. For a short moment, I revisited 1963. And I cried. And cried. No control. A great feel. A terrible feel.

A good cry. Good/bad. If yesterday wasn’t so good, there’d be no cause for hurt today. So, emotionally - messed up. Thankful, yet sorry full.

May sound weird, but I oh so love those guttural moments - even though it’s all about hurt, it’s all about love too. I am appreciative Oh Maker for allowing me to feel as I do about my yesterdays. My family. My mom. My sister. My dad. Giles. John. Beulah.

What worries me more - is that I know there are probably those out there who don’t have these feels. To never have experienced family love - I simply can’t fathom that - but I know, understand, it’s common. That way overtakes any pity I may throw upon myself for being “the last.”

To have lived and loved (and be loved.).. I’m lucky, and I know it.

Tis my wish, if u ain’t experienced guttural - you one day will. Love, Victurd.