Our weekend was sashaying along so very nicely, with lots of football-watching and family time and celebrating with out of town folks we just don't see often enough.
We decided to stay in yesterday to save pennies and also because I was cooking vegetarian lasagna - an all day affair.
And we watched Ghost Town. Have you seen it? Ghost Town is not supposed to be a sad movie. I was curled up against Steinvic, warm and comfortable, feeling content, and that is when I apparently dozed off for a few moments. When I woke up, I suddenly remembered that my Grandma was gone, the feeling of despair just overwhelmed me and I started crying.
And I couldn't stop. I made it through the movie, sniffling and eyes tearing non-stop, but then went right off to bed. Steinvic tucked me in and was completely understanding, but I felt like a fool. I cried myself to sleep and this morning, have the puffy eyes to prove it. Even through the makeup, my eyes look like someone socked me in them.
I know I may be a little preoccupied with death as it seems to be everywhere recently. Steinvic's Arizona uncles were in town this week because their sister (Steinvic's aunt) sadly passed away - I was going to write about that here and just felt that it was too private, but Steinvic's been dealing with that this week.
Also, just two months ago, one of those uncles lost his wife of 38 years. I made a point to talk with that uncle for a while on Friday night, explaining that I understood why he was so very sad, that I had just lost my Grandma, and that at times, I would look around at everyone going on about their normal lives and wonder what the hell was wrong with them...didn't they know that something horrible had happened and that nothing would ever be the same or right again? He grabbed me and hugged me and said that was exactly how he felt about his wife being gone. Exactly. And we both agreed that while we each felt this way, we were also painfully aware that we couldn't go on talking about it all the time...who wants to hear it?
I told him that I didn't know what his beliefs were about what happens when we die and how that part really didn't matter...that I knew for certain that what his wife and my Grandma wanted for us was the very thing they could no longer do - they wanted us to live, and live well and large and loud. That surely, we had their permission to grieve and cry and feel like crap...just so long as most of the time, we were focusing on living a good life. He nodded and agreed.
I thought of that conversation last night and how those words do not feel like they belong to me.
I am having some trouble taking my own advice and making sense of things. I'm struggling to keep from asking myself how I can laugh, eat or even dress and make up every day when the world is without my Grandma.
And I found myself, in my non-stop tears last night, wondering how she could be gone - how she could go and leave me here - and what am I going to do now? Sheer self-pity at it's finest...I know she would never have abandoned me.
So, I'm tip-toeing around that rabbit's hole, not even wanting to peer inside, not wanting to hear the echo of my breathing into it's vast, careening, vacant darkness...knowing that I have no business even being in the forest. I'm trying to move on as best I can, with no idea how to do it...