They say there are five stages of grief. After 3 days I would have to say I have experienced ten times that many.
I have felt more sadness than I ever have before with the loss of my mom. I’ve never felt anything like it. In my life I have lost good friends and I still grieve for them. I lost my mother in law about a year and a half ago and we still talk about her often with tears in our eyes. But this has been something else altogether.
I feel guilty for many things, but mostly for mom’s time in the hospital and how I wish I could have done something, anything.
I feel confused, lost, scared, and panicky.
I feel like I want to go out and try to make a difference in the world as quickly and grandly as possible.
I feel like I want to stay home and not talk to anyone.
I want to be adventurous and do all of the things my mom didn’t do. And yet I am fearful and don’t want to take a chance on being injured and in the hospital. (The doctors and nurses in the hospital and especially at the hospice home were amazing and loving and kind. I hope I never see any of them again.)
I want a hug almost constantly, and yet I really can’t see myself holding it together long enough to see anyone.
I have always thought I was a tough, strong person, but I feel weak and fragile. Because of that I feel disappointed in myself.
I haven’t felt angry with God. That surprises me. I feel like He should be angry at me. And a little bit at my mom. I feel that maybe we didn’t try hard enough with the lives He gave us.
I feel like I need to hurry and move on, so I can use the years I have left to be more of who I am supposed to be, if only I could figure out who that is.
I feel like I need to take things slowly, so I don’t fall apart later when I least expect it.
I feel totally lost, yet like this whole experience might help me to understand better who I am.
I feel blessed to have so many friends and people who care. I feel unworthy to have those friends because I am never as wonderful to others as they have been to me not only through this experience, but so many other times.
I feel like my heart is broken and will never mend. Yet it is filled to overflowing with the love of my close friends and my two guys who have let me cry and talk and then cry some more.
I have tried to take care of myself, but can’t sleep. I have eaten and even craved a cookie on Saturday, yet everything has tasted like cardboard.
I feel like the days and especially the nights last forever, yet I can’t figure out where the days go.
I have a slow week this week so I have scheduled one task at home each day and one small outing each day. That way I don’t become the recluse I joke about becoming, the recluse my mom did become. I have scheduled enough to get me out, but not wear me out.
Next week is a different story, I have meetings and a TV appearance and plays to review. I have an article to write and a life to continue. I hope I’ll be ready or can at least pretend to be ready.
I am all over the road in how I feel. Writing helps. Talking helps. Crying- well, I am not sure if it helps or not, but I am certainly doing a lot of that.
But like most roads, this one will take me somewhere. And I will learn and keep on traveling, although for right now it might be a slow, difficult journey.
