Friday, September 09, 2011
I'm discovering that grief is as they say, something that has many stages.
I was having lunch with a friend yesterday who I haven't seen since Mike passed. She was asking me questions about him, his illness, his passing and I was answering her. It was only as I sat watching the tears stream down her cheeks that I started to hear myself and how I must have sounded to her. My voice was without emotion, quite blunt I guess, just recounting a group of facts. I realised that my demeanour might have made me seem uncaring, as if it didn't hurt to talk about those things.
I tried to explain why I was being the way I was. For me it's like, at this moment, my grief is in a big pot. It's full to the brim with tears, heartache, yearning, loss, regret, but the lid is still on, just hanging on at the edges. As long as I keep the lid on that grief, I can control it. It's not a conscious thing that I'm doing, but that's how I can best describe it. Self preservation. I keep it pushed down otherwise it can just take me over.
Of course I can't do that every day all the time, and it overflows at the most unexpected times. The sad fact is, that life goes on, without him. Perhaps a time will come when that's reassuring in itself, but for now, that is cause enough for the lid to come off.