Hi! This is just a simple something that I wrote. I'm quitting Grey's. The last two episodes have been a nightmare for me to watch, and so I'm giving it up. There are two main reasons:
-The parallel storyline gay marriage was used for was really belittling. I loved the speech he gave - but man, whoever wrote the episode… not cool to compare gay marriage with something that made the issue seem trivial.
-Arizona is just meant to be ok with this? – after 12 hours she hears a heartbeat and is in love with this kid? Pfft. I wrote a shitty fanfiction with a similar scene a year ago and I thought it was complete bullshit then, but to see it on TV? I reiterate: Pfft.
So this is my VERY bitter farewell to the show. It's sad. Purposefully. It's hopeless. Purposefully. But it's sort of based on a true story (or rather a couple of true stories). One that despite 'equality and tolerance' that Grey's is preaching, is the ugly truth that people don't want to face.
Valentine's Day, 2021.
It's been two hundred and forty six days. Two hundred and forty six awful, harrowing, painful days. Days filled with anger sadness and darkness I have never known. I'm almost ashamed to admit that even when my brother died I did feel this. We knew it was going to happen, we had time to say our goodbyes, but it doesn't hurt any less.
The 17th of June. I have never hated a day more.
I have never hated cancer more.
I'm a doctor. I always disliked cancer. The word leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, but now? Now that it took my love? I've never hated anything more in my life. Almost
And don't get me started on God. He was the one that she prayed to. He was the one that she was supposed to be looked after by and for what? To die a slow and painful death? To be taken away from her children. For her children to grow up without her?
Do not get me started on God.
But then there is someone else I hate more than the date, the reason and one power that could have stopped it but didn't. In fact there is one person I hate more than all of them combined.
The words out of his filthy mouth.
"We are moving to Boston."
For a few short moments I thought that he meant himself and Lexie, but then… I knew.
Calliope and I had been so busy making preparations that it hadn't crossed my mind. My eldest son was not, in the eyes of the law, mine, afterall. He was the son of Calliope Torres and Mark Sloan. I was merely a bystander, a voyeur looking in on a life that did not belong to me.
Despite the fact that my son was named after his uncle, my brother. Despite the fact that I was there at all the points of his life, from his first word and steps to the time that said goodbye to his Mama. I was the one who was able to comfort him when she passed. I was the one he lived with after Calliope left the earth. I was the one that dealt with the nightmares, the sobs, the agony of the loss. I never thought…
"We are moving to Boston." Not a question. A statement. Something that my lawyer couldn't fight. Something that the Torres family's lawyer could not fight. Something that Danny himself – despite his fits and tantrums, despite his total hatred of the idea – couldn't fight.
So I sit here in his bare room. It still has all things here, because I live in hope that one day my son will come home. I did this a lot in my room after Calliope died. I used to stare at photo's of us. Of our family. Hoping against hope she would walk through the door with that grin and light up our house once more. But it hasn't happened yet. Now I sit here and look at the photo's of our family again.
It decreased twice since this photo was taken.
Our happy circle of five has fallen apart.
"We are moving to Boston."
I tried to find a job there, but even with Carlos' unlimited resources it's going to take months if not years to secure a job where I can still spend time with the kids, and in the meantime the time I can visit my son is dictated by a man who I used to think of as a decent man.
Apparently when my son calls me Mommy, it's not true.
Apparently when he wants to be comforted by his Mother, he can't because the only person who is recognized as his mother is dead.
I've felt this before, this frustration, but on a smaller scale.
When Danny was four and a half Mark took him on a camping trip. I had expressed my concern about the idea – four and a half and camping… anyway once Mark pulled the 'I'm his father' card and they went on their camping trip, Danny broke his arm. They took him to the closest hospital and then shortly after that, into surgery. Calliope was in surgery herself, so I went on ahead. When I got there I was not able to see him. I was not able to comfort him. I was not able to be his mother. Because apparently in the eyes of the law 2am feeds and washing baby vomit off your clothes, fighting against tantrums and wiping away tears were not enough for me to be his mother. Biology was all that mattered. Not love.
I knew when Callie asked me to be all in that this or a similar circumstance was possible. I love Danny with all of my heart and I will always love him. When he is sick he whines the same way his mother did. When he belly laughs it's exactly like Calliope. He's temper ignites just as easily as hers did. His curly hair and his expressive eyes, are his mothers.
Surprisingly, he is a little like me too. When something he doesn't expect to happen, happens… his face scrunches up and it's like looking in a mirror. He loves heeley's. He always uses words like awesome and super. He's so (as much as I dislike the word) perky.
No matter how similar he is to me the government still believes in biology over love.
We were never able to get married, and have it recognized in Washington. I was never able to sign Danny's permission slips. We were never really allowed to be. When Jessica and Michael were born I had to sign second parent paperwork, and that was fine. I am relieved that they too cannot be taken away.
But my Calliope got taken away for me, from us, and then, to add insult to injury, another piece of her did too. Without question and with no chance of to change it. I was not able to fight it, I was not able to even negotiate…
Maybe I shouldn't have said I was all in, because really? How could I be all in when there are forces that wouldn't let me be?