I don’t really know what to write, but for whatever reason I feel the need to.
One of my friends is at a memorial service today. It’s funny how the Universe works. Even after everything that’s happened I’m still surprised at how events play out.
Chrys and I started messaging each other after years of silence. She just randomly sent me an email and we’ve been chatting for a while now. I’m not sure how long… less than a year I think. She was one of the people who talked to me while mom was in the hospital. She talked to me after her death. She talked to me while all of the garbage with Zane was going on.
In short, she’s been one of the consistent people who’s still here for me when things get really dark.
The person she looked to as a mother figure died a few weeks ago. The service was today. My chest aches for her. It hasn’t triggered my own grief, but I can understand when she messages me about not wanting to be around people, about not wanting to chit chat and catch up on life, about not wanting to be social.
As an extrovert the feeling of wanting solitude is sort of foreign to her. It’s not her “norm”. We’ve been messaging back and forth all day. My message of, “I wish I was there for you,” replied to with the statement, “Just having you to message is here for me.”
I know those feelings. God, do I know the relief, gratitude, overwhelming support, of simply knowing there’s another person on the other side of my phone who legitimately cares about me and understands I’m sad.
They don’t try to fix it. They don’t try to make anything better, they simply accept the fact that I’m not ok and still somehow love me. I don’t have to be perfect and smile and fake this overwhelmingly impossible emotion of happiness. I don’t have to hide anything. I can still be me even though it’s not the pretty, collected, “I’ve got my shit together” me that everyone is so used to seeing. They know I’m at my worst and yet, for some reason, they’re still there, and I don’t know why and I feel like I don’t deserve it, but I’m so indescribably grateful that they are because just knowing that they’re there, that they’re messaging me, gives me the emotional strength to pull through.
Me: “Do what you need to do to be ok and to make it through. If that means not being around many people, that’s fine. If it means having your own silent form of closure and not speaking that’s cool too. There is not right or wrong.”
Having so recently gone through such a similar situation… I don’t know. It gives me some sick feeling of purpose. I don’t want Chrys to hurt, but because I understand on a basic level the emotions she’s having to contend with I feel like I’m one of the few people she can turn to.
Her situation sucks, and there is not fixing it. Just like mine. Nothing is broken. You can’t “fix” death.
Right now I’m in a “stone” state I guess. I don’t know what to call it. Peaceful isn’t the right word. At least I don’t think it is. Peaceful to me has a soft, light, floaty sort of connotation to it, which isn’t what I feel. I feel sort of cold because nothing about death is warm and fuzzy. I feel grounded, solid. Like a rock or pillar, I guess. I feel like I’m in acceptance right now because this is reality.
Death happens and even though I’m grieving for mom still, I’m able to continue to support and love the people in my life. I’m still able to be here for them and to share in their emotions. I’m able to help them through the hard times because I have been through them, and in this case, and for the rest of forever, am still going through it.
There isn’t going to be a day where I magically wake up and a puzzle piece has clicked into place and I’m suddenly healed. This isn’t a paper cut where you’ll never be able to tell where the wound was. This is a vicious, jagged scar over my heart that will always ache on April 4th, on July 28th, on Mother’s Day, on Christmas. It with twinge whenever I hear a Beach Boys song, or when I bake brownies because mom loved to bake.
Maybe it will hurt less often as time goes on. Sting a bit less. Maybe there will be flare ups every once in a while on an epic scale where I’m reduced to screaming alone in my car as a way to cope with the pain. I don’t know. But I do know that just like some of my other past experiences, this changes my mentality and perception. Priorities have shifted. I still don’t really have goals other than finding a new home.
There was a post on Facebook by Word Pron… yes, that’s a thing on Facebook. Anyway, there was a post saying how sometimes home is four walls, but that other times home is two eyes and a heartbeat.
Mom was home. No matter where she was, what she was doing. I don’t have that level of security anymore, and I think that’s part of what makes some of my days hard. I think that’s why sometimes I cry in my car when I park in the parking lot of my extended stay. I don’t want to go inside. I don’t want to be alone. It’s not home, so I don’t want to be there, but where am I supposed to go?
I’m still trying to figure that out. Sammi, Josh and I are going to try to find a place together. We’re going to be looking around the college I’ll be going to next fall for the PTA program. That’s what tomorrow is. Apartment / rental home hunting so all three of us can find a place to call “home” again. I’m hoping for it to be a lot like when we used to live together. Weekly meal planning, a warm hello when I get home, taking turns cooking, eating dinner together, hugs goodnight.
I don’t know. I always thought of my time living with them as my golden time in Florida. It was the first time that I felt like I had a “family” while being so far away from mine, and it was one of the reasons I was so depressed after they moved to Texas. I felt like I had no reason to be in Florida anymore. I remember writing about that loneliness. How I was in school working on a new degree and I should “want” to be where I was at, but it felt so pointless because no one was “here”.
I guess that’s where I’m at tonight as far as emotions go. After writing I feel weary, heavy. Even warriors get tired.
I’m looking for home. I’m missing home, but I’ll never see those two eyes or feel that heartbeat again. I have to find a new “home”, but that makes it sound like I’m replacing the old one with something else, and that’s not how it is. It’s not replacing. Nothing, no one, can replace mom.
I guess that’s what I need to meditate on further. But not tonight. Tonight I’m going to sleep so I can wake up in four hours for boxing.