Grief Is Sneaky, Reprised

I did not intend to let our little corner here lapse into silence for nearly three months.  The reasons are mostly boring–having to do on one hand with a job possibility that did not come to pass, and on the other hand with freelance projects that indeed came to pass (but on an uncomfortably tight deadline for even a fast writer) at the same time extensive home remodeling kicked into high gear.

I also did not intend for the first post in forever to be on the topic of grief.  I would have preferred the Patreon re-launch, truly.

But I also made a commitment to be honest and open about grief because it so rarely is discussed once “the expected” period of mourning is over.  So here I am, Memorial Day morning, typing despite an ocular migraine, because I spent half of yesterday weeping.

That… was unexpected.  Yes, I’ve been immensely stressed all the way around, yet thinking the weekend would be fine regardless.  Yesterday being race day, we had the whole family over.  I had a drink, started showing off what we’ve been doing in the basement to my sister, then spotted the pictures my son had just unpacked.

And there was the framed show poster from when my late husband and I were dating, and the sole professional photo of the three of us when Dev wasn’t much more than a year old.  And this one.

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I lost it.  I cried, then apologized for crying, then cried again, then assured everyone I was fine.  I went into my half-finished bedroom to work on a few things once everyone else had left, then started crying again.  At some point, for reasons I don’t know, I crawled into the closet to huddle up and cry some more.  I pulled it together to get something to eat and act sociable for awhile, then made an excuse to go for a drive so I could cry again.

It’s been six years since my husband’s funeral.  It’s been four years since my best friend’s memorial.  Now another dear friend is starting chemo.  I just… lost it.

Today, I’m feeling all cried out.  I’m tired.  Tired.  Usually, I attend a service or ceremony to mark this day, but I am still under the bedcovers.  I absolutely must work on the freelance project today.  I’m thinking it’ll all happen in my pajamas.

So… There it is.  That grief and loss thing, feeling bigger for a few hours yesterday than it has in a long, long time because–if I’m painfully honest–it is cranked up by the terror of losing my recently-diagnosed friend as well.

 

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