Monday, April 12, 2010

The labor of grief

The truth is this stinks.

Grief is like being in labor. You have to ride the waves of excrutiating pain .

The difference, of course, is that once through labor, you have some physical fruit to show for your labor.

With grief, you still feel empty.

It is so random & while I respect the process, I am not good at being brought to the floor in tears.

Being blind-sided by sound-byte pixellated memories is just the worst.

I keep going back to those last days in hospital ... grasping to fill in the gaps ... last words ... leaning over Vic's head, asking him if I should give the staff his living will ... him telling me I would know when the time was right ... to promises whispered in Vic's ear as he lay, dying.

I miss him so much, it feels like I've been punched in my stomach. You know when a child just gasps for air between sobs ... that gasping has actually made my "abs" hurt. My forehead is muscle-fatigued from the crying-frown.

Frown & cry I do.

It started last night at about 8pm.

Has not stopped yet.

Like I said before, it is about learning how to ride the waves of sadness.

Who'd have thought at 52 I'd be taking up surfing?

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