I found these while doing some last minute Christmas shopping (never again will I shop outside of the comfort of my home--online shopper for life). They are the kinds of antiquish things my mother would love. I bought them for her for Christmas.
My blog has a theme as of late: GRIEF. It has consumed my writing because it has consumed me. There are other things happening in my life but none as powerful as the force of grief. The time heals all does not seem to apply to me. This season has been a rough one. I've tried to mask it and to even use the coping strategies I've learned in therapy to no avail. Writing once again about it is a last ditch effort to relieve some of the sadness.
I feel like a functional addict: moving aimlessly from one moment to another just waiting for the feelings to hit me and to succumb to them letting the tears flow and the guttural scream out. Like an addict, I am getting good at fooling people and sometimes myself that all is good; I can work and smile and laugh on cue in the midst of my desire to retreat and grieve and in my alone moments I am hit hard with the sadness starting in my belly and welling up to the surface inundating my thoughts and dreams. At every turn there are reminders motivating my desire to exist only in my grief--picturesque family photos shared whole and complete, well wishes of happiness and joy, the discussion of menus for Christmas dinner, questions of what gift to give mother or grandmother or even just the mention of those titles. Words spoken and translated by me with all the memories and love that accompanies them and yet are absent in my present existence.
I've decided being home for the holidays is maybe not a good idea for the next few years. I need a distraction something to push the perseveration aside. I know the cycle of grief is not linear and it ebbs and flows. I know my grief is different than others and comparison is futile. I know, I know, I know.
I should be focusing on the people in front of me. I should be reveling in the light snow falling outside my window creating the perfect backdrop for Christmas Eve. I should be rejoicing Kayla is on her way home and we get to spend Christmas with her. I know, I know, I know.
I also know, know, know that I miss Ma and Grandma like crazy and reconciling all the knowns is very difficult.
There is no neat bow to wrap up this piece and end it so you and I both feel better nor is there a finite end to my sadness. I leave my thoughts here hoping to return to them when I have thoroughly unwrapped my grief.
Documenting my evolution by filling in space and matter one word at a time.