You know those mornings where you wake up and you just have this gnawing ache? I couldn't shake it. The sun was shining...the weather was warm...life was in motion...and I was just anxious. My whole drive to work this morning I was biting my lips, trying to leave the feeling behind in my rear view mirror.
My boss was gone today, so I was in charge of running our full time meeting. My morning was already off to a rocky start (my overnight order ended up not going through because they didn't receive a shipment...) and I left my phone out during the meeting in case my boss called me. We have been trying to hire someone and after tons of glitches, today was the day it was supposed to happen. Needless to say, paperwork got lost and we started back at ground zero. Pointless except I never have my phone out. Two employees were out and I was waiting on their "confirmation" of illness via text.
The last number I expected on my caller ID was my grandma.
I ultimately ended up answering, debating the etiquette of taking a personal call during a meeting. My grandmother had had a stroke shortly before and had been taken in an ambulance. My heart sank to the floor and I think it might still be there somewhere in the lobby. One of those moments where you nod your head but no words come out of your mouth. Reality started to hit me and I found myself scrambling to not fall apart. If I went home, I would fall apart. If I am alone, I'll fall apart.
I've been distracting myself all day. The truth is, i'm terrified that my grandmother is gone. I can't confront that just yet. I'm terrified. She's the most important person. She's the voice on the other end of the line that reminds me what life is really about, she's my compass and without her I already feel so lost. This horrible, horrible gnawing ache.
Derek came over to cook dinner and I found myself prepping the food and dropping things all over the floor. I forgot the main ingredient I needed, even though I went to the store to get it, and ended up having to message to pick it up for me. Immediately after, I spilt my vitamins all over the floor and down my shirt. I wanted to just sit on the floor and cry in an absolute tantrum. In my desperate attempt to function, I didn't acknowledge what my body was so obviously trying to tell me--you're not fine. This is not fine. I didn't cry cutting onions, I didn't cry when I overcooked the noodles. I didn't cry when he asked me how I was doing.
I started crying over the wrong DVD.
I picked up a blu-ray DVD instead of a normal one, and I sat on the floor and looked up at him and just started to cry. It was a humbling moment. I tried to stop crying as soon as I could muster up the strength, and I asked him, "are you every afraid if you let yourself cry you'd never be able to stop?"
Sometimes that's my fear. That if I really let myself cry about my grandmother, the attack, my dad...I'd never stop.
I ate my feelings today. I swallowed my grief in an array of sugary treats. My sobs were suppressed with two (three) miniature pink donuts from Starbucks. My depression was smooshed in between two graham crackers and nutella. My eyes ache.
Armed with lackluster emotional coping mechanisms, I turned to the Dalai Lama. Tonight's chapter was coincidentally 'Facing Suffering,' this is the advice that i'm applying as ointment to my heart break:
"It's no use to worry too much, and if I really loved these people, then I must fulfill their wishes with a calm mind. So I try my best to do that. So I think if you've lost someone who is very dear to you, that's the proper way to approach it. You see, the best way to keep a memory of that person, the best remembrance, is to see if you can carry on the wishes of that person." I don't remember my grandmother ever not being positive or smiling, 'every day is a good day depending on how you look at it.'
That horrible, horrible gnawing ache.
My mom offered to buy me a ticket to come this weekend. I'm not sure if I'm strong enough to face this. I want to be there for my grandmother, but I don't think I could handle her not remembering me or being able to talk to me. I'm afraid I'll vomit or start sobbing uncontrollably. I'm afraid. I'm afraid, I'm afraid. I wish I could press a button that could heal everything. Facing suffering. The hardest, most daunting thing. I just keep thinking, 'carry on the wishes of that person'...my grandmother is tough as nails, capable of anything. Some part of me knows that I have no choice but to be strong enough to face this, to deal with this, to confront this sadness. I just don't want to. I don't want it to be real. I want it to be a bad dream, when I wake up tomorrow...it'll all just be a dream.
No comments:
Post a Comment