Hope Waited

I knew that grief waited. I didn't know hope waited. That is good to know. We, or should I say "I", think that if something good happens, you should grab it, then and there. The thought of good things waiting, never even occurred to me.

As I was copying, pasting, linking (whatever) this picture, it started raining. I am currently in Texas where it very seldom rains, especially in the summer. Remember when you were a kid and you played in the rain, jumping in the puddles. Or in our case rolling in the puddles, getting really dirty, having tons of fun. Most of the time when it rains, we run to our car, or to the inside. Getting wet seems to be a hassle, an inconvenience. Well, this morning, I decided to go out in it. Everyone one else was asleep, so I didn't have anyone to play with, so I just went outside. I stood, in the rain, in the yoga pose called "tree pose". Basically you just stand straight up, hands by your side, feeling your feet planted, while trying to touch the sky with your head. I tried to meditate. If you have never tried meditation, it is fucking hard. I just kept repeating the word "quiet". But, since I was in the parking lot of the apartment complex, it wasn't very quiet, even on a Sunday morning. When you are a child, it doesn't matter how things look to other people, if it is fun, you just do it. Since I'm not a kid anymore, I felt like I looked weird just standing in the rain. So, when a car drove by, I had to pretend I had a purpose for being out there. Needless to say, meditation didn't work well for me. But, the yoga pose worked really good. I felt my muscles loosening up. It always surprises me how tense I am.

Before it started raining, I was doing my usual internet browsing. I found two new grief pages and was reading other people's advice and experiences. I read an article about signs. I read one about emotions taking control, albeit temporarily. I read about what not to say to a grieving person, and how easy it is to hurt their feelings. Then, I found the poem about hope, and it started raining. I am taking those two things as signs that I am doing ok. I need to be living in the moment.

This post may seem disconnected and rambling, but I feel the need to clean out a little of the dust that has been settling.

First of all, I feel a little bad about my last post when I was so angry. But, like I said then, I need to express those feelings or I will never be able to get rid of them. Apparently my anger is still an issue. That is part of the reason I haven't even tried to look for a job yet. I'm worried that I will not be able to contain this anger, and will go off on someone that doesn't deserve it. I also feel like I would not be a very good employee and that wouldn't be fair to the company that hired me. On the other hand, boredom is also my enemy.

I also have a bit of frustration. There are times and people I would like to talk about John or Daddy with, but unless they are in the moment of sadness, it gets passed over. Sometimes I need to tell people what is going on. And I need to tell it to people that haven't already heard it before. Death is such a taboo subject. Because death is fucking scary. Who wants to think, much less talk about, death? Unfortunately, it is very much a part of my life. And, I have said this before, but if you have never been touched by the death of a close loved one, it is impossible to relate. I never could.

Here is a frustration that I have. Daddy's best friend, Larry, received some of Daddy's ashes. It was VERY painful to get the e-mail from him. I have a ton of questions, still. I sent Larry an e-mail saying I couldn't really express what I was feeling. I didn't hear a word back from him. He is in Colorado, so I thought he was being affected by the wildfires, and that was why he hadn't responded. So, I sent him an e-mail saying we were thinking of him and hoping for the best in wake of the fires, and I got a rapid response. Why can he respond to that, but can't talk about Daddy? I wish he would have just said, "I'm here for you to talk to." Instead, I got nothing. Not even acknowledgement that I had written about Daddy's ashes. Nothing. That is hurtful. I am in pain, and I need people to take some of it. I need to give it to them, have them absorb it, take some of it. These "people" can do that by just listening. Listening and caring. It is just so much easier to stick your head in the sand, put your hands over your ears and say nanananananana, not listening. But that hurts. Some people just really come off as selfish. That's a shame.

It is funny to me that on Jes' birthday, I missed John a lot more that I did on my own birthday. John was more generous than I am, and he always had things he wanted Jes to have, or to experience. I got to talk about plans for her birthday, talk about gift ideas, etc. He always wanted her to have a good birthday. I missed him a lot that day. My anger also reared it ugly head that day. Funny, (not haha funny, but hmmmm, strange, funny).

Yesterday Betsy and I went to the lake. We used to go there as kids. Growing up, we had a ski boat, and practically every weekend, we went to Lake Travis. As soon as we parked, and got all settled, a boat went by pulling someone on an inner-tube. I started quietly crying. A few seconds later, Betsy said, "Man, I feel like crying". She looked over at me, and I was already crying. So, we just let the crying come out. It didn't last a long time, but we cried. And talked. And got better. It seems like we have to spend every second holding ourselves together, and when we got to a point of relaxation, the emotions just came up and out. We may look fine, we may act fine, but apparently we are not fine. Our emotions are barely covered under the surface. One little poke, or scratch, and here it comes.

Well, the household is stirring. I have aired some thoughts and it is time to put them away for the day and "get on with it". This is what "grief work" is.