Let's just get real and honest here. Put it all out there in the open. It's been almost 5 months since Ben passed away....and I'm still waiting for the grieving to ease up. I feel like it has slowly gotten harder rather than easier. My sister mentioned that she heard that unaffected people will give you a month to grieve, and then expect you to move on.
How is that even possible?
Right now I am in a place where it is almost painful to see pictures of Ben, to hear stories of Ben, or to think about him. I avoid interactions with people that I know will lead to questions about him, or wanting to reminisce. When I'm going through pictures on my computer, organizing them and happen across ones of him it immediately puts a lump in my throat and I have to fight back the tears. When I'm randomly scrolling through pictures on Facebook and happen across one of him, I have to quickly click away.
It seems that it's gotten especially harder since moving down to St. George.
I was texting my sister, and in kind of "talking" it out with her, I think what is hard is that we left my comfort zone in the middle of grieving.
Living up in Centerville, most everyone knew what was going on in my life. Everyone I interacted with knew Ben, or knew that I had lost my brother. I was surrounded by family. While I didn't necessarily want or need everyone asking how I was doing, there was comfort knowing they all had an idea what was going on in my life, and were very understanding. They gave me the space I needed, and never questioned why I couldn't come to things, or why I had been in my pajamas for a week without leaving the house.
Here, nobody knows. And I thought that would be nice, a clean break, a fresh start, no baggage. But at the same time when I was getting teary in Relief Society for no reason in my new ward, it would have been nice for people to understand rather than wonder what's up with the new weird girl in the corner.
I thought things would get easier, but right now I have at least 2 major "grief bursts" a week. Full on hyperventilating, sobbing fits. Why? I know he is in a better place, I know he is free of pain and so much happier. I know there are reasons for things, and I know that he was needed for something much greater.
But somehow, that just doesn't always help.
My most embarrassing grief burst happened on my way to a girl's trip with sister-in-laws. They were having a completely innocent conversation...but it triggered my feelings and before I knew it, I was sobbing in the front seat of the car...feeling SO INCREDIBLY STUPID. I couldn't control it, and wished I could pull it together. They were kind, and tried to apologize for not remembering that what they were talking about was my constant reality. But I didn't want them to feel sorry, or feel bad, I wanted them to feel comfortable talking about anything around me, not having to worry about what they say.
I don't know how to really explain it. Maybe it's that it is finally really settling in and feeling real. The surrealness of the whole ordeal and situation with his battle with cancer and passing away is finally feeling concrete.
And I don't want it to.
I want to still feel like it's all just a bad dream and tomorrow he will be around again to tease and text his one word answers.
I still have texts from him saved on my phone. And sometimes I read through them, my big long winded texts with his simple "yep" and "ok" responses. But what I wouldn't give to have another one of those. The last text I got from him was one week before he passed away. And I knew that his simple text of "yep" took effort on his part. And it meant a lot that he even took the time to acknowledge me.
I have been trying to stay really busy and upbeat. If you haven't noticed. (All the decorating, painting, puppy buying, building stuff, trying to never sit down long enough to think.)
Because lately every time I slow down, my thoughts drift to Ben and I just feel...sad, and sometimes angry. And I don't like feeling that way.
I'm trying to stay positive and enjoy the small things in life. And usually I'm successful and we are happy.
But sometimes, that grief sneaks in out of nowhere and hits like a ton of bricks.
No comments:
Post a Comment