(warning: this post is raw, unedited and unrevised)
Today marks 1 year, 7 months, and 18 days. That's 596 days of processing, accepting, and healing. Today I am angry and heartbroken. Anger is not an emotion I am comfortable with. My heart breaking into a million pieces is something much more familiar to me. My heart shattered on February 2, 2008 when my sister, Connie, passed away (unchartered territory). I have cried, crawled, stumbled, gotten up, smiled, laughed, and at some point, I guess I was doing something that looked vaguely familiar to living again. Today, I'm not sure.
It's her birthday weekend, and today I am angry. No, I'm furious! I recognize that this emotion is the only thing that is going to keep me from completely losing my mind. So, I am hanging on to this rage for dear life. With my entire being I am screaming at cancer. I want to beat it dead. I want to rip it to pieces. How dare you touch my precious angel! You hateful bastard! I hate you!!! Do you hear me? I hate you!
I'm familiar with the "work" that needs to be done on a broken heart. Time. Time. More time. Today, time is my enemy. I know I need to love and be gentle with myself. Allow the feelings to flow as they come up. Honor the process, Max. But grief is such a very strange thing. There is no rhyme or reason to it. I've come to a place of peace with her loss, over and over during the past 596 days. Suddenly, with no warning, the floor opens up and I'm being swallowed by the realization that she's gone.
I ache from a place so deep that I didn't even know it existed. It's hard to breathe. My body aches throughout. My mind is spinning out of control. I cry for me, for our mom, for her son, for her grandchildren, and for my children and grandchildren. She was iconic in our lives. She was, and always will be my very best friend, my protector, my voice of reason, and my reference for unconditional love. She was my big sister, and at times a mother to me. She was everything gracious, loving and beautiful. She was my hero.
I knew this darkness was coming. It has a very familiar approach. Sort of like when you know you're getting sick. I've tried for the past few days to ward it off. To go to that "happy place" your mind automatically takes you to. That mysterious place of self-preservation. I made plans for the weekend knowing that I needed to stay busy. That just ain't gonna happen. There will be no "big game," no cook-out, and certainly no dancing. I don't like being here. It hurts and it's so scary. Nothing soothes it. I notice I'm doing that "rocking" thing. Gently swaying front to back. It's what I've done to comfort myself since I'm a child. I don't always realize I'm doing it, but it's happening now. Connie knew when I did it, just as she would point out when I was "picking" at my fingernails. She knew.
I have said her name everyday for 596 days. She remains alive in so many ways, and yet is so very gone. It's a roller coaster ride that I did not purchase a ticket for. I hate roller coasters! I am flailing around certain that I will fly off on this plunging drop. Today, it seems there's no end to the ride. There's no predicting the next climb or plunge. When you're on the Grief Roller Coaster, you have in your hands a life-long ticket. I've heard that sooner or later the ride gets smoother with only an occasional dip. I can only hope.
I was with a friend last evening in Walgreen's. Bam! There it was...an entire display of "As Seen on TV" products. Connie loved those things! I used to make fun of her and her obsession with having such ridiculous things. I stood there and pointed out which items Connie would absolutely have to have, and why. Even if she didn't need it, she certainly knew someone who would appreciate it and make good use of it. Good enough reason to buy 2! I really wanted to buy them all. Felt like I needed to. I stood there and quickly "processed" the idea that buying these things for her was insane and certainly not going to bring her back. Yet, at the same time I also wanted to demolish the entire display. Just throw everything to the floor and stomp and scream! Talk about extremes! Instead, I just walked away. Grief doesn't make sense, and it has no mercy...on anyone.
There's a place in my mind that I know for certain I will survive this. I know that this gaping hole in my soul will eventually heal. I know that time will lessen the pain and fear of living life without my sister. I know there will come a day when the anger I feel will not be a necessary emotion. But not today. Today I want my sister, and I'm pissed as all get out at the son-of-a-bitch named cancer that took her from us. Today I cried out in agony, covered my head, blocked anyone from coming near, punched the pillows, screamed into the pillows, threw a glass just to hear it shatter, opened cabinet doors several times just to slam them harder, and cried some more. Then, I sat in total silence...for hours. The silence of nothingness. I sat with my emptiness, my sister, and my God.
I don't go to the cemetery very often. I don't feel the need to. I talk to and visit with my sister everyday. She's a part of everything I do, and the driving force behind what I do. But come Monday, I think will sit with her at her grave site. I will go and bring her something pretty and shiny, because that's her. And I will sing Happy Birthday really, really loud, because I really, really can't sing and that always made her day.
Happy Birthday, sweetheart! I love you!!
