I’ve been in King George (The George) since Saturday morning. I was here most of the day Saturday by myself since my Dad went to NoVa for trick-or-treating with my wonderful nephew Christian. I could have invited myself to go along but I was having an incredibly bad day (more about that later). Then, after we had breakfast together on Sunday a.m. he left around 2 p.m. to go back to Massachusetts for a few weeks.
I have to go “home” tomorrow. I’m having lunch with a friend at 1:00 p.m., then I have to vote. On Wednesday a.m. I’m taking Peter to a meeting at ECPI. On Thursday a.m. I have an interview (finally!! it only took THREE months!!). I’m hoping to be back out here before dinnertime on Thursday.
It depresses me a bit to have to leave here. I’m so comfortable, so calm (usually), so relaxed here. I’m not exactly happy, I’m really exactly happy. It’s more a feeling of contentment. I’ve learned over the last 3 years that sometimes contentment is the best you can hope for. I’m okay with that.
Now, why was Saturday such a bad day you might still be asking yourself (if you hadn’t already forgotten my mentioning it way up there in the first paragraph). Well, here’s why. Grief sucks. No really, it does. It sucks. And not in a good way.
I go to great lengths to prepare myself for Joshi’s birth and death days. I worry and stress in the days and weeks leading up to them and then, with no fanfare, they arrive, they pass, and they have never been as horrible as I expected them to be. That doesn’t mean that they were easy, just that they weren’t days full of crying and stress and anxiety and guilt.
And then comes a long a random Tuesday, or maybe Halloween, and I wake up crying and all I can think is, “Let me survive this day.” And that is what happened on Saturday. It was a grieving Joshi day. I cried, I stressed, I worried, I felt guilty. It was a 5 ativan day. But I survived it and I’m proud of that.