When someone asks how I am, I am finding that I give them a high-level peek into how I am but then I change the conversation to what has to get done now. “Now there’s just so much to do” is what I find myself saying over and over again; there’s a house full of their things, there’s a car, there’s a will, there are bills to be paid. I don’t happen to mention that almost anytime I think about him or I’m reminded of the fact that he’s gone, it takes every ounce of strength I have to not openly sob and fall onto the floor.
I just ran into my Executive Director, she’s basically the Head Cheese at my office, and she asked how I was. She’s very compassionate and I know I could have been honest with her – I could have told her that he was my heart, he was my constant supporter and that I just feel like the world is wrong now that he’s gone. I could have told her that it all feels like a bad dream that won’t go away. I could have told her that anytime my office door is closed, it’s because I’m crying. But I didn’t. I stuck to the facts, said that it’s been hard, and went right to my stand-by statement about all that we have to do now. Why did I do it? Because I can’t be the girl that stood at the copy machine with the Executive Director and cried her eyes out. I was the girl that went into that woman’s office about a year and a half ago and started crying when I had to tell her my Mom had kidney cancer and was going into the hospital. I can’t be the girl that can’t seem to stop crying, even though deep down, I am her. The other night I went to bed early because I didn’t feel well; turns out I didn’t feel well because I had bottled up all of the sadness from my day. When I laid in bed and cried for a bit, I felt better; the pain in my stomach went away. So I guess this time around, I get to experience the physical effects of grieving. Last time, it was just the emotional. Oh grief – how I loathe you and wow, you really really suck. Thanks for making this even harder than it already was going to be.
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