There is beauty in pain. But you have to let yourself find it, open your eyes and see it, let your heart feel it: the pain and the joy. The sun still comes up, the sky is still blue. There are still singing birds and fat, ready for winter squirrels. Music is still capable of moving you, there is still great television, good movies, and theatre. Work still matters, and what you do there still matters. And the people who love you - they still love you. Even when you’re feeling or acting crazy, they still love you. Even when you’re in the middle of the mall and you start crying, they don’t care about the looky-loos and the nosy people. They just care about you.
I’m in the midst of the weirdest part of my grief process. I’m not crying as much, though I still miss daddy a lot. I think I’m beginning to accept that he’s really gone. But I am so scattered. I can’t remember why I’m in the room I just walked into. I’ve forgotten some very important things at work, and I’ve been fortunate that I’ve either gotten a reminder from someone or something, or I’ve remembered them in the nick of time. I forgot to clean the cat’s boxes for four days. And that was a load of fun when I remembered. Three cats. Four days. The sheer amount of piss was astounding. Thank god the dog can do that shit on her own. (Pun sorta intended.)
Of course, some of that fogginess could be that I’m damn close to my forty-ninth birthday. But I’m going with grief. I still can’t listen to Shinedown’s ‘Crow and Butterfly’ without bawling uncontrollably. And I can’t watch ‘The Walking Dead’ (one of my favorite shows) for obvious reasons. ‘Les Mis’ was a total disaster, way too soon after the funeral, way too soon emotionally. I went home and watched ‘Pineapple Express’ while everyone else stayed behind and finished out the film. My daughter has me, of all things, crocheting. It’s amazing the amount of time you can lose practicing a simple chain stitch.
My lover (uh…significant other AKA husband AKA Matt) has been wonderful. I don’t have enough words to describe what he has done and is still doing for me. He’s my touchstone, my amazing, generous and wonderful man. His patience and kindness humble me. And when I’m a wreck, he’s whatever I need. How on earth I got so lucky, I’ll never know. He has been the most beautiful part of this journey.
And my kids, the human ones and the furry ones, have given me such comfort and soothing. It’s like the whole house rides on my emotional wavelength right now, I can feel them release when I’m okay, feel them wind tight when I am not. I’m the momma, I’m not supposed to be chaotic and wigged out. But there is joy in that chaos, and I am learning to see it. Learning to feel the pain, to ride it out, and to find the loveliness in heartbreak.