This morning September 13th. God, Friday the 13th… I woke up to a text from my friend Barb, “call me Andy died”… Instantly I knew how. As l leaned over the bed trying to read once again what the small print said I just about threw-up. Hours later I feel like I am re-living the worst day of my life because today is theirs and know all too well what every minute of their day, weeks and months will be like. They will be counted by the minute, the hour, the day and every month after. Something I wouldn’t wish on this Earth’s worst enemy.
As I move in a rewind of my own emotions many things have flashed cruelly back at me. The numbness I felt and the complete shock of it all. If I could just wake up from this. I remember how I felt so cold, so dark. Stiff… Every breath felt like a boulder on my chest. I just wanted to fade away to wherever he was. I wanted nothing more that day than to close my eyes and just die myself. I remember chatter all around me for days and I couldn’t tell you a thing said. I didn’t want to be touched by anyone that couldn’t handle my whales. I could hardly stand a sweet sympathetic touch. I would have rather been slapped in the face because any kind of comfort felt cruel and I felt nothing but anger. I just wanted to beat the shit out of the devil. My son fought that bastard and I just wanted the final fight because I would have died in that fight. The feeling in my heart that someone I love is hurting deeply shatters my heart because I know there is nothing you can do, nothing you can say, no gift, no anything will make this day better.
This morning has brought back thoughts and physical feelings that I didn’t allow myself to relive until today. The horror that rushed through my body this morning; all morning I felt in a fog of those feelings. I felt such deep sadness as I stepped into the shower. I recall it was maybe three days after Grant’s death before I could even dragged myself out of bed to take a shower. Today’s shower I re-lived a feeling that hurt so deep. The warm water that poured over my body was one of the weakest moments I felt in all of my grieving. My boy would not feel this ever again; warm water a feeling of pleasure felt cruel. My throat felt so swollen and the tears melted into all the rest of the wetness. Warm water was a feeling of pleasure and I felt horrible feeling any contentment; the taste of food, the smell of the flowers, a kind hug. I felt nothing but the deepest pain. Feeling this sorrow isn’t out of complete selfishness. Re-living this pain is maybe a sort of compassion and empathy for someone very special to me. My mind, body and soul aches for her. My heart breaks for the days I know she has ahead of her. I know what she is thinking… I know her fears… I know her emptiness… Many people had beautiful comforting words to say after our losing Grant. They were so well thought out… Well intended… I say, “Grieve hard. Grieve as hard as you can.”