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You know, I've heard it said that when someone dies the people left behind go through various stages of grief. No one ever said, though, how worry latches onto a person. I'm terrified about losing my Mom. She's had cancer, her strength isn't what it used to be, she tires easily. She's in her early seventies. Chances are that I'll get another 10 years, tops. And it scares the bejeebies out of me.
And then there's this weird, "didn't get to say goodbye to Dad" feeling that I've been having. I know that for him, it's better that he went quickly like he did, in fact he likely just went to sleep and never woke up. But there is this other part that wishes I could have held his hand as he went. That he would have been in a bed, surrounded by people he loved.
These feelings have been simmering away in the back of my mind. My moods have been all over the place since, I dunno, last Fall, I think. I just haven't really had a face to put to them, you know? I just had all this rage that was covering up grief. And todsy I was reading two different books with, (cooincidentally) two parents that were either dying, or in theat helpless stage in the hospital, with tubes and breathing apparatus and stuff. And I just started bawling. Because finally it all clicked and all this pain just poured out of me.
I got off the salesfloor, of course. Had a good cry, thought about a few things and, weirdly enough, started to feel better. I still feel vaguely unsettled. But this awful feeling of not being in control, of having bad bad things happen to me and being helpless to do anything about. It finally is out there, where I can see it. And deal with it. And I think I need to talk to Mom. I need to feel more connected to her.
I just wish I didn't have to get here through all the steps I've had to take the past 11 months. Cause yeah, it's coming up on a year since Dad died and is more than that since I saw him last.
And then there's this weird, "didn't get to say goodbye to Dad" feeling that I've been having. I know that for him, it's better that he went quickly like he did, in fact he likely just went to sleep and never woke up. But there is this other part that wishes I could have held his hand as he went. That he would have been in a bed, surrounded by people he loved.
These feelings have been simmering away in the back of my mind. My moods have been all over the place since, I dunno, last Fall, I think. I just haven't really had a face to put to them, you know? I just had all this rage that was covering up grief. And todsy I was reading two different books with, (cooincidentally) two parents that were either dying, or in theat helpless stage in the hospital, with tubes and breathing apparatus and stuff. And I just started bawling. Because finally it all clicked and all this pain just poured out of me.
I got off the salesfloor, of course. Had a good cry, thought about a few things and, weirdly enough, started to feel better. I still feel vaguely unsettled. But this awful feeling of not being in control, of having bad bad things happen to me and being helpless to do anything about. It finally is out there, where I can see it. And deal with it. And I think I need to talk to Mom. I need to feel more connected to her.
I just wish I didn't have to get here through all the steps I've had to take the past 11 months. Cause yeah, it's coming up on a year since Dad died and is more than that since I saw him last.
