Grieving is a funny process. It’s overwhelming and it’s probably harder than anything I’ve ever had to come across. Since Saturday I haven’t been able to keep a clear track of what’s been happening. Days are mixed up. I feel like it’s still Saturday and I’m going through the motions. I’m laughing to keep myself sane, keeping busy to stop the thoughts but most of all I’m trying to stop the tears. I’m keeping them at bay.
I wrote this in the midst of things. It was going to be this post but I got distracted by everything and I didn’t get a chance to finish it. Starting today’s blog I thought about starting it in the exact same way and had a deja vu moment, which led me to bringing this snippet up. People are far too quiet about their grief. I’m getting sick of it. I’m also trying not to write far too much about it, because it’s going to repetitive but I learned something really powerful. I’m learning that dealing with grief and it’s confronting and challenging.
From a young age, I was hurt and teased. I learned how to get over this, but it came at a cost. I compartmentalised almost everything to do with pain. I was able to move through the pain of losing my Pappou, mostly because I was in another state and away from the constant reminder, but we also were given time to say goodbye. I was dealing with the grief. When Dad passed away, I didn’t get any time. In fact the last time I spoke to him was 4 days before he passed away on Skype and then a text message conversation with him two days before he passed away. I miss him because I didn’t get to hear his voice one last time, but I was okay with that. I would always have and his silly smile and laugh in my mind. I still do.
But in the midst of being surrounded by friends and family during this very precarious time, I wore a mask of strength. Everyone was waiting for it to crumble; I was waiting for it to crumble.
On Wednesday I joined my gorgeous friend and her beautiful mother for meditation and was cracked right open. I don’t even remember much about it. I remember purposely trying to avoid letting go of all of the pain that was centred in my heart because I knew once I did, the floodgates were going to be open. And boy were they.
I never cried when I told anyone that Dad had passed away. I started to pride myself on that too, but when I told the ladies at meditation I was choked up and overcome with emotion. It’s progress because in the process of it all I felt a weight release off my shoulders. I can finally start my grieving. And as much as I don’t want to, I need to. I wish I could shake Dad awake and make him come back. I need him in my life, but I have to go on without him and I can be strong about it.
He will never get to see my married or see my joy when I finish my first novel, but I know he’ll be watching. I’m starting to heal myself and I know that I still have a long way to go, but people need to give me a chance to explore it on my own terms. If I want to get angry, they need to let me; if I want to go to the beach and wiggle my toes in the sand, I’ll damn well do it. I am old enough to deal with it on my own. So let me.
On a happier note, my free feedback is closing in a week! Three lucky people will win a chance to get some feedback from me. Make sure you sign up to my emailing list, I’ll be announcing the winner next week! Check out the post here.