Where All My Love Resides

    I gave everyone fair warning, not out of self-pity or loathing, but because I felt they needed to understand, to have an ‘out’ if you will, an acceptable path to walk away from my crazy, my grief, my dysfunctional manner of functioning after my mother’s nightmare became reality.

    I watched their faces upon hearing my words: Listen, I get it. I’m a lot right now. I’m going to be a lot for a while, possibly, for a long while. If you can’t handle me, I get it, no blame, no worries, no explanations necessary.

            

    I watched as they heard my offer, as to a person, each individual scoffed or waved away my words, as they assured me of their steadfastness.

        

    I have repeated my offer over the years, and their reactions never change; but, there are fewer people to hear it, as I have watched some skulk away, unable to admit they needed an out, that my honest appraisal of how I am doing on any particular day is too much for them to input.

            

    I don’t blame them, even now. My grief is a lot for them to support, to manage, to handle. It’s hard for them to hear how bad some moments are, even after all the years he’s been gone from this physical world. 

            

    But I know the only reason I am, is because of the people who have stayed. They stand beside me, listening when I can’t hold things inside, absorbing the images, not able to understand yet open to my needs. 

            

    I think sometimes of the people who left, wondering if they ever ponder: If it was too much for them, how much it must be for me. It’s not easy owning my brain and the memories it holds, but I don’t get to walk away, I don’t get to choose. I get to keep going, fighting, moving forward, pulling others along with me through the quagmire of grief, knowing, I wouldn’t extinguish the grief because it is where all my love for him resides.