Posted by Danny
Monday, January 24, was the eleven month anniversary of Lisa’s death and by 2 in the afternoon all I wanedt to do is climb in bed. For me, the sting burns in a myriad of ways. It can last a few hours. I’ve had it last as long as two weeks. It can come because of the anniversary – the 24th – I hate the 24th. Who celebrates or recognizes an eleven month anniversary of anything? We don’t celebrate our 11th month birthday, not even in the first year; and yet, in grief, we hang on to that day – it hits us – month after month after month.
The sting can hit when a holiday is heading my way. It can hit because I found one of her feminine products in the bathroom drawer. There is no rhyme or reason. And I find myself unconsciously beginning the slide. When I realize it’s coming, I can typically pin point the reason – “Crap, it’s the 24th. I should have prepared.” But you can’t prepare. It’s subconscious. Your body just realizes it’s time to grieve.
They say, “It’s normal.”
It’s NOT normal for me!
Never in my life have I felt this level of pain.
DJ was sick today. I headed home mid day to make her lunch. I checked email and knocked out a few work projects. At 1:00 I had an hour and a half meeting that I phoned in to. I laid on the couch listening to every word, trying desperately to focus. But all I wanted, all I could think about was Lisa. The sting can be paralyzing. On the outside you may see me sitting in a meeting, having a conversation with my kid, checking email. On the inside, my mind is in one place. My mind is full. My mind is consumed with my loss.
The sting makes me discontent with many aspects of my life: work, home, relationships. The sting can clutter my mind with thoughts of future loneliness. The sting robs me of my patience with my kids. It is claustrophobic. It’s gripping. It doesn’t last forever.
We spend a great deal of time sharing the funny aspects of our life – and there are many. But it’s not all funny.
I hear there are people out there reading this blog who are going through similar situations to mine. My goal is for this to be helpful – to show that you can laugh during grief even as it hurts like hell. What I’d share with those in similar situations is that it takes a tremendous amount of fight to see the good through the pain. It’s exhausting. And yet, without it, what’s left?
It’s worth the fight.