4/18/13

Grief is a physical thing

Grief is currently my least favorite accessory, hanging on me, inanimate and heavy like an overly large purse or an ugly necklace that I can't take off.  My grief is usually silent but it siphons off my focus, my energy, my drive in constant, tiny increments.

When grief does speak, it nags me that maybe I'm not sad enough. That this fine day, the one that passed without much thought for my dearly departed, isn't rightly mine because I'm not sufficiently mourning. Prove your love, it says. You're not sad enough.

I don't break down when I look at photos of my dad or hear a story about a dad dying or talk about my dad or do anything directly related to my loss. I feel guilty for moving easily through moments that by all rights should make me cry. What is wrong with me? I think as I gaze dry-eyed at his photographed face.

My day-to-day life is not uprooted by his absence from this earth and so it seems as if nothing has changed. The service is over, the obituary has been put away, the photos are back in their albums.

Life, my life, goes on.

Then grief sneaks up quietly and grabs me by the throat at moments when I least expect it, like when I read an article he'd like or I hear a deep man's voice singing behind me in church or I see my youngest daughter curl contentedly into her dad in a way that I suddenly, viscerally, remember.

I want my daddy and he's gone.

Through my tears I am sure: I'm sad. I'm sad enough.


10 comments:

Doing My Best said...

Thank you! You are so good at putting these difficult things into words!! (hugs)

d e v a n said...

((hug))

Bronwen said...

This is exactly how I would imagine it would be. Hugs to you.

twisterfish said...

I've been thinking of you a lot ... sending more hugs your way.

Therese said...

I'm so sorry honey. I have been there. We have a hole in our hearts in the shape of them that nothing else will ever fit. And we just have to let it become an accepted part of us. I guess.

Sarah said...

Thanks for letting us know how you're doing. I've been thinking of you and how you are coping. I know when I have felt grief I have mostly felt so overwhelmingly tired, physically, and found everyday things so exhausting. And mentally too- it was so hard to focus on what needed done. But I know you will find your way through the fog of it. In the meantime, keep writing when you feel like it! We love you and it's good to hear from you. Lots of hugs.

Tara said...

Hugs, Friend. All of the many hugs.

Kimbra said...

I just wrote a post very similar to yours about the loss of my son, and I wanted to say thank you because for whatever reason I was totally meant to read this post today. I am your newest follower
http://mommysrambles.blogspot.com/2013/04/today-i-cried.html

momof3 said...

You explain the grief process so well. My father passed away in August and I have cried so many times over the past week. It still feels so raw and new to me. Hang in there.

miyoko said...

yep. grief is so weird. in the weeks after my mom's passing all i did was sleep. i was exhausted in every sense of the word. i heard this was common.

then time started to fade things.

i will be "fine" and wonder why i'm "fine" and then start sobbing INSTANTLY out of nowhere when i'm at the mall and having trouble deciding about buying some clothes or jewelry.( both my mom and I have/had indecision issues and issues spending money)

Or bringing the kids to Disney world and remembering all the times I nagged my mom to bring me to Disneyland. All those long days of waiting in hour long lines just for me. I have cried about her a lot in the last few days, when i hadn't in many weeks.

Or looking at the kids grow and wishing i had the person who watched me grow, there to share certain moments with-- things that only MY mom could appreciate.

It hits out of nowhere and it hits hard, all i can try to do is ride the wave and try to enjoy life.

Hugs hugs hugs.

m.

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