Tamales, Tamales Everywhere day 18
I have been both putting off writing and purposely not writing for the month. I'm afraid. I'm completely and utterly afraid of what's behind that noise in my head and I'm more afraid of the effect it will have on me than of the content itself. And then I get lost in the depth and expanse of said content.
I'll just put it out there. I'll say it. And I'll talk about it. And maybe I can have some relief.
My grandfather is dying.
I have no idea how to process that.
I put on my stone face and shoved down a throatful of tears to tell my kids. I don't think my son knew exactly what that meant, but he had a great sense of stoicism about him that night. I kinda looked up to him for it. And then my brain chimed in with so much more useless worry.
My daughter and my husband wore their emotions so easily. I almost envied them for being able to just let it all out and not even needing to question their sadness.
And then the pain in mother's voice on the phone that afternoon broke my heart and then straightened my back to be the soldier to carry on. I could do this. I was good at it. Shit happens, right? We adapt. We learn. We overcome. We achieve. We push forward.
I think there's this fear inside me that I am not ready to face. I don't deal with death well, but I have become an expert at rationalizing loss. I have little with nearly no regrets in my life. I've accomplished a lot of goals. I've course corrected and focused on making memories and doing the things I love to do. And I still can't deal with losing someone.
I still break down thinking about Nina Carol. She died in 2001. Sometimes that little bit of air hits your eyes just right and then the tears slowly choke out with no warning. It's worse when my husband mentions her. He is usually finding some semblance between the both of us, like my new found hobby of photography.
See, I still can't even just talk about it or get to the point of it.
I can't even begin to fathom what any of this means for me. Maybe it's because even after someone is gone, we're still here, thinking about them, missing them, mourning them. Because driving through an old neighbourhood makes me sad. Putting down my phone realizing you will never text back makes me sad. December makes me sad. I fucking hate being sad. I don't want to be sad. I don't want to miss anyone else. I don't want to sit in a car and scream again. I don't want to attend a funeral. I don't want to have to appoint myself the strong one. I don't want to have to be weak either.
I don't want pick up my phone to call to not hear the TV so insanely loud in the back. I don't want to never hear your truck horn beep with as the only announcement of your visit. I don't want to only have memories like our trips to Walgreens that fostered my love of writing implements and candy. I knew there was a reason that so much had been coming back into my mind lately. I didn't understand what the universe was preparing me for. I'm very angry with it for that. I don't want my son to stop coming home with quarters in his pockets. I don't want to have to start to watch old westerns just to understand why you loved them so much. I don't want a random cup of coffee to bring tears to my eyes knowing that my love of coffee was ingrained into me over weekend breakfast at the same old kitchen table while you read the paper and I enjoyed my cup of coffee with you. I'm sure it didn't taste great, but the sheer joy of drinking it with you was all I needed for flavor. I don't want it just to be a fading memory of you being able to help me with my math homework. I am still not great at math, but I make sure I take the time to help the kids with their math homework too.
I don't want to lose someone that has had such an impact on the person I am today. My heart is breaking ever so slowly and time is the enemy. Sometimes you have a lot of time; sometimes time runs out on you. And then there's these moments where time fails to feel linear because you don't know where you'll end up or on what part of the line you'll fall.
"To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die."
-Thomas Campbell
I'll just put it out there. I'll say it. And I'll talk about it. And maybe I can have some relief.
My grandfather is dying.
I have no idea how to process that.
I put on my stone face and shoved down a throatful of tears to tell my kids. I don't think my son knew exactly what that meant, but he had a great sense of stoicism about him that night. I kinda looked up to him for it. And then my brain chimed in with so much more useless worry.
My daughter and my husband wore their emotions so easily. I almost envied them for being able to just let it all out and not even needing to question their sadness.
And then the pain in mother's voice on the phone that afternoon broke my heart and then straightened my back to be the soldier to carry on. I could do this. I was good at it. Shit happens, right? We adapt. We learn. We overcome. We achieve. We push forward.
I think there's this fear inside me that I am not ready to face. I don't deal with death well, but I have become an expert at rationalizing loss. I have little with nearly no regrets in my life. I've accomplished a lot of goals. I've course corrected and focused on making memories and doing the things I love to do. And I still can't deal with losing someone.
I still break down thinking about Nina Carol. She died in 2001. Sometimes that little bit of air hits your eyes just right and then the tears slowly choke out with no warning. It's worse when my husband mentions her. He is usually finding some semblance between the both of us, like my new found hobby of photography.
See, I still can't even just talk about it or get to the point of it.
I can't even begin to fathom what any of this means for me. Maybe it's because even after someone is gone, we're still here, thinking about them, missing them, mourning them. Because driving through an old neighbourhood makes me sad. Putting down my phone realizing you will never text back makes me sad. December makes me sad. I fucking hate being sad. I don't want to be sad. I don't want to miss anyone else. I don't want to sit in a car and scream again. I don't want to attend a funeral. I don't want to have to appoint myself the strong one. I don't want to have to be weak either.
I don't want pick up my phone to call to not hear the TV so insanely loud in the back. I don't want to never hear your truck horn beep with as the only announcement of your visit. I don't want to only have memories like our trips to Walgreens that fostered my love of writing implements and candy. I knew there was a reason that so much had been coming back into my mind lately. I didn't understand what the universe was preparing me for. I'm very angry with it for that. I don't want my son to stop coming home with quarters in his pockets. I don't want to have to start to watch old westerns just to understand why you loved them so much. I don't want a random cup of coffee to bring tears to my eyes knowing that my love of coffee was ingrained into me over weekend breakfast at the same old kitchen table while you read the paper and I enjoyed my cup of coffee with you. I'm sure it didn't taste great, but the sheer joy of drinking it with you was all I needed for flavor. I don't want it just to be a fading memory of you being able to help me with my math homework. I am still not great at math, but I make sure I take the time to help the kids with their math homework too.
I don't want to lose someone that has had such an impact on the person I am today. My heart is breaking ever so slowly and time is the enemy. Sometimes you have a lot of time; sometimes time runs out on you. And then there's these moments where time fails to feel linear because you don't know where you'll end up or on what part of the line you'll fall.
"To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die."
-Thomas Campbell
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