I did not expect to feel this sad.
A tornado of emotions hit with little to no alarm, or some other natural-disaster based metaphor where everything is left utterly destroyed in its wake. No warnings, unless you count the ones I probably chose to ignore. I find myself sitting in the closet after I've undressed for the day feeling tired and on the verge of tears. No reason for this I can speak of. Life is okay enough. I check in anyway. I think about the date. I think about several dates, and I remember what time of year it is. Of course.
I did not expect to feel this sad.
I look at the fun-sized Krackle bars in the Halloween bucket and remember how weird they tasted. I unwrap one and eat it, but it doesn't taste the same now. I dig all of the bars out of the bucket and hand them to Mike, saying, "Please eat these. They're making me sad." Coincidentally, no one comes to trick or treat at our house. I turn out the light and head to bed early.
I did not expect to feel this sad.
I get angry at work, convinced that people are doing things on purpose only to find the same people are doing the same things they always do. I wonder why I can't just get over it, why these things bother me just that tiny bit more this time, why it seems to always be my problem and conversely try to convince myself to change my attitude about it all, to let the feelings wash over me and pass by. I think again about employee assistance and contemplate how much is too much to bear alone.
I did not expect to feel this sad.
But I remember. Of course I remember. Why would I not, given the importance I place on specific dates and rituals and how I feel from season to season? I remember where I was, where I hoped I'd be. All the dreams and wishes and entire lifetimes spread out before us before we even got a chance to temper them with these kinds of what ifs. Lives changed forever and yet still seeming the same now to the untrained eye. Because we have to. Because there's nothing else we can do.
I did not expect to feel this sad.
Yet here we are. Two months on today since the most recent passage. A year on tomorrow since we first found out. So close together and yet whole worlds apart. The absences a distant memory for those who don't have to live with them. The devastation ripped open afresh, and the guilt still tender from not being quite so devastated by the second one, like it was all going to happen regardless. I can't shake the feeling that I could have done something differently though I know intellectually I couldn't. It's gone now. Wringing my hands of all this. Still reeling. Still hurt. Still broken. But still getting out of bed and going to work, trying to act normal because no one wants to hear it this far on. We move on for the sake of it. That's what you're supposed to do, right? What else are you going to do?
I did not expect to feel this sad.
I did not expect to feel this sad.
I look at the fun-sized Krackle bars in the Halloween bucket and remember how weird they tasted. I unwrap one and eat it, but it doesn't taste the same now. I dig all of the bars out of the bucket and hand them to Mike, saying, "Please eat these. They're making me sad." Coincidentally, no one comes to trick or treat at our house. I turn out the light and head to bed early.
I did not expect to feel this sad.
I get angry at work, convinced that people are doing things on purpose only to find the same people are doing the same things they always do. I wonder why I can't just get over it, why these things bother me just that tiny bit more this time, why it seems to always be my problem and conversely try to convince myself to change my attitude about it all, to let the feelings wash over me and pass by. I think again about employee assistance and contemplate how much is too much to bear alone.
I did not expect to feel this sad.
But I remember. Of course I remember. Why would I not, given the importance I place on specific dates and rituals and how I feel from season to season? I remember where I was, where I hoped I'd be. All the dreams and wishes and entire lifetimes spread out before us before we even got a chance to temper them with these kinds of what ifs. Lives changed forever and yet still seeming the same now to the untrained eye. Because we have to. Because there's nothing else we can do.
I did not expect to feel this sad.
Yet here we are. Two months on today since the most recent passage. A year on tomorrow since we first found out. So close together and yet whole worlds apart. The absences a distant memory for those who don't have to live with them. The devastation ripped open afresh, and the guilt still tender from not being quite so devastated by the second one, like it was all going to happen regardless. I can't shake the feeling that I could have done something differently though I know intellectually I couldn't. It's gone now. Wringing my hands of all this. Still reeling. Still hurt. Still broken. But still getting out of bed and going to work, trying to act normal because no one wants to hear it this far on. We move on for the sake of it. That's what you're supposed to do, right? What else are you going to do?
I did not expect to feel this sad.