It's been five months since my last post. Mostly because every time I think about it, I think, "Who the hell cares?" So I don't write.
Perhaps that attitude is indicative of depression. Yeah, probably.
But here I am, and it's been exactly two years since Mom and Dad left us. That's how I feel: Left. They left us.
Left us.
I am selfish, yes, I know, but I miss them. You might think after two years, I might feel better. I can tell you that what is better are the memories. I think more about the good times than those awful, wretched months after Mom had that stroke and then Dad got sicker and then they both died.
So that's good. I don't think I could have gone on if I lived in the middle of that still.
The good memories make me smile. But those memories also make me miss them more. And that's why I feel left.
I understand it's not their fault. God chooses time of death and all that. But that doesn't change my feelings. So, yeah, they left us. All of us, not just me.
You see, it's still in the back of my mind how inconceivable it is that they are gone, because their influence is still everywhere. I guess in some comforting way, then, they are still here.
But it bugs the heck out of me that I can't see them or interact with them anymore. It makes me angry, in fact.
And I think, "God, why can't you let me see them together, just one more time, to see what they are doing with you and how they are feeling and what they are thinking? I don't think that's too much to ask."
So I will continue to wait.
In the meantime, I trudge along, still trying to find my way in this "retirement" type stage of my life. It's retirement because everything is part-time and on my own terms, mostly. I do the antiques, I craft, I listen to audio books, I take care of the house and the animals. And I sleep and rest a lot due to the chronic pain issues I face. That's a huge factor in my depression, not just grief. And living with chronic pain is a whole other post that maybe someone else who reads might relate to. So, I'll just shove that aside for now ... even though I can't really because at this moment, I hurt.
But I don't always just trudge. I skip sometimes, too, because that's life. Even in grief, good times happen. Lots of good times. I am grateful for those, and I think about those times, too. So don't worry too much about this downer post. Keep in mind it is the anniversary of their deaths, so that counts a big something for my attitude.
I read a book recently in which one of the characters said, "You never really understand something unless it happens to you."
She didn't say "until it happens to you." She said unless.
Think about it. That's so true. There is no full comprehension about what anyone is ever going through. And that's how grief is. That is the one thing I have learned about it. It is my own grief to muddle through, just as your grief is your grief.
All we can do is try to love one another through it, without judging and without controlling.
So here I am, two years down the road to simply share that whatever you are grieving and however you are grieving it, that's fine. It's yours and you're doing it just fine. And if you don't feel like you're okay in your grief, then get help with it.
I have. And that is just ... fine.
