Not Just Another Week

I should probably be better at this grieving thing by now. I should know what to do, what not to do, how to deal with the stupid dates that continue to flip into my calendar view. 

Yet for weeks, I have wanted to broach the subject of this coming Friday with my sister-in-law while simultaneously being terrified to bring it up because...and here's the funny not funny detail...I was afraid to bring it up because I was hoping that perhaps she hadn't yet realized that this week contains the one year deathiversary of my brother, her husband, her sons' father, my parents' son, my daughter's uncle. 

How ridiculous it is, for me to have that thought, yet I wished it for her, for all of us. I wished that her heart was not already being extra burdened with the added level of grief and emotional trauma that comes with this looming date on the calendar.  

It's been over ten years since I lost my own son, so I should probably be better at this grieving thing, yet this week I am all over the place, filled with uncertainty about how to be the best for the people I love as this Friday approaches. I feel like I don't know anything, but...

Here are some things I do know:

1. Friday will come and go and then Saturday will come and go, and so on, and so on, and so on.

2. No matter how much I worry, each of us will need to do what it is we need to do in order to get through this 'first' whether together or apart.

3. Sometimes things that seem impossible aren't as bad as anticipated.

4. Sometimes things that seem impossible are worse than I feared.

5. It will be the first but not the last. 

Sometimes writing about what is spinning around in my head and heart helps me and helps other people who read my ramblings. It's why I decided to write this morning. I'm no expert on grief. Anyone who says they are is, in my opinion, a bleeping liar. I don't even know if I can claim to be an expert of my personal grief! It changes every day, some days minute to minute. 

After my son's death, my hair broke off because my vital organs needed to claim internal energies to keep functioning. I lost weight and gained weight. Forget sleeping through the night! Memory loss, inability to hold a train of thought, focus, read, write. Since my brother died all of those things and more are revisiting. Oh, plus Covid. How awesome it is that Covid doesn't even make the Top Ten Shitty Things in Life for me these days! Funny. Not funny. 

A year ago, in the before (before my brother died, before Covid changed the world), I was already a mess. 2020 was bringing the decade marker of my son's death. I was searching for new counseling without success. My emotional stress was taking a physical toll. I remember sitting in the parking lot of a doctor's office sobbing. I knew I needed help, that a dark cloud was rolling in and I was feeling helpless to figure out what to do next.

It's been a year. 

It's been a decade. 

This is just another week, yet so much more. I don't have answers or easy solutions. There are no fixes to mend the breaks in my broken heart, but there are ways to stitch it together and keep on breathing.

Here are some things I know might help:

1. Laying my head into my horse's neck and breathing deeply.

2. Reaching out to people who love me.

3. Losing myself in my writing or another author's words.

4. Loud music at the gym.

5. A lapful of Piper and Frankie.

I'm no expert. I wish I had no idea whatsoever, but wishes are make believe and fairy tales and this is life. This week will seem longer than most, but it too will pass. Before I know it, tulips will be poking above the mulch and my donkeys will shed out wintery coats. The calendar keeps changing, and other not just another weeks will come and go. Some will be worse, but some will be better.

Frankie has crawled onto my chest, nestled his little nose around my neck and behind my ear, so I'll end this here, with warm puppy breath and a smile on my heart to chase away some of this week's tears.