Grieving looks so different for everybody. It literally morphs and changes into what we need it to be. Sometimes it’s loud wails and gut wrenching cries. Sometimes is cleaning or baking or sitting alone.
Tonight I needed a distraction from all of the questions and emails and phone calls and love. I had to leave the house for awhile.
I woke up this morning at 4 am terrified that I’d missed a medication dose or that I hadn’t heard Brad in need of being adjusted or moved or needing something. Then, of course, I realized that I hadn’t missed anything. That it was all real and shitty and sad.
Above all else when you are caring for a loved one, you’re also sleep deprived and so stressed that you don’t remember what is up and what is down. I can’t remember the last night I slept for more than two hour periods of time. That’s how often Brad could have pain medication.
I remember when I was nursing my babies when they were newborns. They would wake up every two or three hours and need a diaper change and be very hungry. Brad got up almost every single time to get the baby and change them and have them ready for me to feed them. He knew that if I got out of bed I wasn’t gonna go back to sleep for a while, so he could make it easier by getting the baby ready and then bringing the baby back when I was done. He loved that I wanted to nurse them and he loved seeing them in little snippets when they were sleepy and loving and wanting mama. These last few weeks, I’ve done everything I can to make him more comfortable, just like he would have done for me, and our babies.
Grief hit me like a brick wall tonight. I was coming back home after being gone for a few hours. I came home to a completely empty, quiet house. There weren’t any lights on or things like laundry waiting or shoveling to be done. I was alone.
Right now it feels unbearable. All of it does.
Tonight grief is the wracking sobs and bottomless wine. It’s soaking in the tub and crying so many tears and wanting all of the pain to go away.