|Me and my mama.|
I have seen so many posts on Facebook by people whose mothers or fathers have died this week. Most of them were posted by people I don’t really know, but there have been a couple I do. I am always shocked when I see these posts. The fact of death is just a jolt, the rawness of the grief expressed makes my own heart ache. Another friend, someone I actually do know, has posted a number of memes about waiting for the grief to end. She lost her husband a few months ago. One of the memes she posted said “H.O.P.E. … hold on pain ends.” I so helpfully commented, “They are lying.” The pain of a relationship breakup, that usually ends. But those who are torn from us by death, those whose hearts beat with ours until the moment they stopped beating, or were so far away we couldn’t feel them any longer … that is something that does not. ever. end. Grief and sorrow are an endless ocean. The tides come and go, and we learn to ride the waves and swim in the depths, but it never goes away.
Me, I am a master of the state of denial. I run from those waves. I dig holes deep in the sand and hide in them. It surprises me that I am able to convey my feelings in writing, considering how hard a time have conveying them to myself. It is why I haven’t written much lately, I think. I have talked about those years in which I refused to say the word “God.” It is like that with my grief. If I refuse to name it, I don’t have to acknowledge its existence. Somehow, in ways I don’t fully understand, this denial is always tinged slightly with anger. I have a tiny subconscious anger towards my mother, towards Michaela. Why? I don’t know for sure. I am just being brutally, nakedly honest about what I feel. Angry that they left me? Oh! No. I think I’ve got it. I think I just now realized it. Many years ago, in the second year after Michaela was kidnapped, I was suffering from a huge amount of anger, and at that time I realized that anger was nothing more than sorrow turned inside out and thrown outside ourselves, so we didn’t have to feel it. Perhaps it is just that. I can’t, cannot cannot cannot, feel that sorrow. I must turn it into anything and everything except what it is, because I cannot, cannot, cannot, absolutely refuse to, FEEL IT.
A mess. Yes I am a mess, a messy mess of grief I cannot deal with.
When I see the grief of others, I really want to help them. I want to reach out and touch them and make them feel better. I want to offer some wisdom. I can tell them, look, I am still here. I am still standing. I am walking and talking, working, loving, and I’m laughing. Hey, I took two Facebook quizzes last week that told me that I am joyful, and doggone it, I am! If I can survive, you can too.
But at what price? I feel it at this moment, that aching aching sorrow that wants to well up. I feel the tears come to my eyes, and I want to sob and sob. But I can’t. I know this is probably unrelated, and it is also TMI (too much information), but for many years now I have been literally unable to vomit. No matter how sick I am. I can go through the motions, but they are empty. Nothing comes up. Who knows, maybe it is related. I am, perhaps, beyond help. I can’t help myself. I can only dig the holes deeper and pull the sand in over my head, over my heart.
Sorry, I know this is a depressing post. I didn’t even plan it. It just spewed forth. Haha. Never at a loss for words anyway. Undoubtedly I am too able to let those loose.
I will feel better tomorrow. Not sure if that’s a good thing or not, but it enables me to get up in the morning and go to work, to keep living even in the presence of loss so awful I can’t stand it. I will, essentially, go back to not really knowing how I feel.
Mama, I love you. I am so sorry. I love you unbearably. I carry your love with me, in my heart, just as I promised you I would.
And Michaela, I love you too, forever. It is the most difficult thing I have ever done, loving you, but I do. I am so sorry that I could not protect you like I promised I would. I am so sorry I could not save you. I am so sorry, so sorry for every blog I am not able to write because I cannot look that sorrow in the face one more time.
I feel as though I have failed you both, mama and Michaela, because I cannot turn from my grief without turning from my love. I am just so sorry. There have been many losses in my life, but you are the two I cannot face because it just hurts too much.
I am just so sorry.