Ow.

[naamah_darling]

I went to help Dad go through Mom's clothes today. My sister's already been and weeded through for what she wanted, leaving me with all kinds of neat, pretty things. I agreed to come over later this week and help go through the medicine cabinet full of her vitamins and supplements, because it needs to be done, and I hate to think of him doing it

Comments

[amazon_syren]

It's frightening how fast the human animal adjusts to doing what needs to be done.

I don't think this is frightening. I think this is a survival instinct that is pretty awesome.

To use a rather less heart-wrenching example:
I used to do singing competitions. One of them was held in February, right around the time that everyone always gets sick with some nasty throat-infection/cough/etc.
There's a way of forcing yourself not to get sick, so that you can do the work. But as soon as the competition is over, you get flattened.

Right.
You're body has enough self-preservation instincts to make sure you only fall apart when it's safe to do so.
This is a good thing!

That being said: While I'm glad you found that fan (because hearing your mom say "we love you" after she's died can't be all bad), you're right: It does suck.

[mt_straycat]

I can't offer anything truly helpful, just my commiseration.

It was easier to sort through my mother's effects than sit and think. In the days after her death, I couldn't stand to sit and think, and I couldn't stand to sit and watch the shocky, lost looks on the faces of my father and sister. I prodded them both into helping me sort through everything, then scrub the house from top to bottom.

During the memorial service, we kept it together because we had things to focus on. We were even able to crack jokes and made the priest laugh a few times.

It's when the work was done and there was nothing to distract us that the grief took over. Usually late at night, alone.

Cry when you need to, and when you feel able to bear it. When it's too much to handle, find ways to keep yourself busy and distracted.

Everyone handles grief in their own way, there's no "right" way to deal with it. I'd say you're doing as well as anyone possibly could.

It'll be eleven years in April and it still jumps up and hits me every now and then. People

[deire]

(((hugs)))

[flewellyn]

Oh, I still remember doing that...it was awful. A task I always dreaded.

Do what you can, hon. We're all with you.

[missysedai]

If I knew you, I'd offer a hug. Actually, I'll offer one anyway. Hang in there.