Category Archives: grief
Your Granddaughter arrived.
She’s perfect. Her name is Jensyn Melissa… I was there. I was present and in the past at the same time.
Her birth, like yours kids…was difficult. You would have been proud of her mama and you would have been a very strong source of support. I tried to make sure her voice and wishes, were heard and I think I did what I was supposed to do. The other day, Mama text me about life after baby with your son. She called me Auntie. First time for that so I hope I did right by her.
When Jake introduced me to Jensyn, after her arrival by c-section, he said, “This is the woman you get to call Grandma. My heart did so many things, both good and bad wherever you are, I hope you felt it because I can’t explain the range.
It’s been almost three weeks since I started this post. Before Jensyn was born, I started feeling like I had three plus years of grief seeping out of me into my hair. It was down to my waist. You know the issues with hair that long. It was heavy, full of sadness and weighing me down. Sleeping was a pain, braiding it every morning was a pain, so today I did it. I cut the last three years of mourning off. I am happy with it, but I came home and cried. I cried because I miss you. I cried because I never have had a reason to mourn like I have. I cried because it won’t bring you back. I cried because I’m terrified of losing your kids. I cried because I am admitting how depressed I have become since you died. I smile, but my eyes betray me. I cried because nobody will ever know the me, with you in my life. I cried because I am so different and I cried because I’ll probably never be done crying over losing you, your kids and grandchildren will never have the moments with you that you all should be having. I cried, because I will never live up to you. I cried, because I needed to.
Mik gets here in 7 days. She’s 21. I’ll buy her a drink for you. I’m taking her to a dispensary for her Crohn’s. I’m making them enchiladas. We are all staying at DJ’s place. It’s big enough for all of us. He’s so grown up. Still in school and doing well. He’s in management at his job now. He has a girlfriend. If they were to have babies, you’d have a little mocha grand baby. She’s OLDER, and a mom. I haven’t met her yet, but maybe while Mik is here.
Mik is bringing her boyfriend. His name is the same as your last child’s name. No one has seen him since he left Texas with his dad. I called David about it, but they don’t really talk. He relays word to his sister who says dad says she can call anytime. But you know how available he makes himself. David told me what T has been through…it makes me sad that he was taken away into the loving born again faux Xtian arms and world he lives in now.
I miss you.
You took the desire to write with you.
I mean, initially I was writing my way through grief. It’s the only real coping skill I had at a time the world couldn’t handle my grief. They think it was hard for them to be around? They should have walked in my shoes for a bit.
To be clear, it’s been no mother fucking picnick.
This last weekend I woke up early on Saturday. I cried for over two hours about you being DEAD. I cried all through out the day and then again Sunday morning.
I “can’t” watch grief themed shows, but it’s what I am drawn to, because there is truth ingrained in “art” and performance. There’s a solace in having a brief, “Someone gets it!” moment, because no one really gets it except your kids. They should be coming TO ME, not me to THEM, so I try not to let them see the worst of it for me. I think we are all protecting one another from our grief. Mik lets me see the most and she is like you. Self preserving.
Saturday morning I went to work for my friend Dan, helping him clean bachelor-cobwebs and he asked me if I wanted Mel’s old antique espresso pot? He feels like it’s time for him to let go of some of her things. I asked him how far out he is from the death of his Mel?
I told him how odd it was that… “Here I am 3 years and 19 days out (as of last Saturday) from your death and I woke at 1:30 and cried for two hours. Full of sadness and anger. I still feel shocked, because I was supposed to die first!” He just got quiet and said that the third year was harder than the second. 3 years and 21 days passed your death, I believe him.
Mik is missing TXR So badly. She makes Facebook posts to him periodically. This morning I realized he lost two mamas when you died, because we both know how hands on Mik was with her baby brother. My hope is when he’s an adult and finds her and the boys, he will find a huge missing part of you.
I’ve text D to ask when his brother plans on letting your children see their brother. I can’t stand Mik’s tears, but we both know baby daddy hates me and will never deal with me…being he’s so Christian and forgiving of things I have never done to him.
I miss you.
You just wouldn’t believe the hole in me, because you died.
You would be the first to yell at me to let it go a bit.
Like I said, you wouldn’t believe the hole in me, because you died.
Since Mel died, there has been so much fog, and so much haze. I have never had a loss like losing Mel and any loss after her was small change compared to her. It’s not that the people I lost since her weren’t horrible, but Mel was big, personal, traumatizing, and deep.
She was my major gut punch.
Mr. Yummy and PD were huge and painful, but they only piled on an already bad and dangerous pain.
I still love him. I always will, but I will never get over the way he just disappeared and ghosted me after Mel died. Telling me HOW to process and how the way I was doing it, was wrong. Fuck you, for that. Mr. Yummy will always be the one who evoked an emotion in me, like no other. But I already knew he was an asshole when PD said he was an asshole and she didn’t like him.
I didn’t like him much either at that time, but I could not at that time process the loss of him. I had to get to a dead point. By dead point, I mean my feelings for him went dead. I would have rather stayed with my sissy and the asshole she lived with, than be around him because he just hurt me. He was a big loss on a big loss. It just compounded my depression. I sat in his house with all those guns, alone, depressed, angry, sad, overwhelmed and wanting to not fucking feel the pain of losing Mel. I won’t lie. I had a gun in my mouth. I couldn’t leave that as the last memory Mr. Yummy had of me. In his house. with HIS gun. It would have been a delicious Fuck You, though.
PD sucked because she just compounded the loss by kicking my ass to the curb, the very day I decided that if Mr. Yummy wanted to be with me, he would make himself available to spend time with me. He wasn’t busy working like he said he was, He wasn’t off taking care of his grand-kids, and I know this to be true. He was running from me and my sadness and whatever else he didn’t have the balls to say to me. I finally realized that.
I cried prior to losing Mr. Yummy and PD. but once it was done, I just went dead to them. Being dead emotionally was easier than falling farther apart. It’s that simple. And this is a small moment of clarity to me.
It’s Friday night and time to wake and bake.
I changed the theme. I think it’s a push for me to start writing again.
I’m also going to write really honestly.
Here are some truths.
I miss The Girl. I am pretty sure she knows this. I’ve never stopped loving her, though I fear her intensely because at one time, she had the power, and used it to try and hurt me. It worked. I’d love to have a relationship with her, but I also fear it. Trust and all.
I am moving on in life after so many losses, but in all honesty if I die today, I am pretty OK with that. I don’t think I am courting death, but maybe I am. I’m not going to the doctor and I have some pretty serious things going on with my body. Do I ignore it longer and go till I drop, or do I go to the doctor?
I’m not really into more of the same. I have kind of had enough of the loss.
I am probably more closed off than ever, because to let anyone in that close would mean to trust, and I am very, very, very careful about who I hand actual trust to.
On the other side, I know the things I have experienced, seen and felt, to be true. It’s just that life hit me so hard I fell off the path. I’ve not gone back to that same hateful person, but there is this wall of protection around me and when you live like that, you aren’t really living at all. You’re sitting around, waiting for it to be done. My life has felt like the last act, of a bad play, that will not fucking end.
But still I am waiting. I don’t know for what, but I am waiting.
I’m thinking I know what I personally need to do, but I have procrastinated because to jump back into it means work and I know that with so much hidden emotion and denied feeling, it’s going to be heavy. It can’t be any heavier than keeping all this shit inside me, can it?
There are things I am totally happy about also.
I love my little apartment. I love that the things I do in my life, are mine. I do them when I want and no one criticizes me, tells me I am wrong, disapproves, or hits me.
I love my few friends I have kept. These are the people I trust and am comfortable with.
Yesterday, I read something I wrote a few moths before the stroke. How odd. As things were getting better and I was happy because of Mr. Yummy, my move, my job, my soaring spiritual awakening, there was a point I admitted I feared what was coming. In all honesty I seriously thought The Girl was about to make an appearance and I wasn’t sure I could do it. That would have been so much easier than losing Mel, Mr. Yummy and Arie. All within a short time span. Back to back. It felt so cruel. it made me ask if I was a good person? I sort of began to doubt my value. I forgot I am what I am and deserve what I deserve, as do you.