The Length of Mourning

Let's start with me saying that I'm usually happy and positive. This is by choice. There's a conscious effort going on here every day. I don't watch things that are sad, I don't enjoy talking about things that are sad, I don't knowingly read things that are sad. I love having children for a variety of reasons, one of which is: I can own and watch children's movies without needing an explanation. I crave a 'happily ever after' whether it be in life or in entertainment. Now that I've gotten that off my chest, I'll explain why today's post title seems like a complete antithesis of everything I've just described.

I found myself with a few free moments this evening. I don't usually watch anything adult on television. When I say adult, I mean...I love i-Carly, Gilmore Girls, and Jessie. I happened to be staying in the basement to wait for a load of laundry to finish, and that particular television doesn't have a remote. Side note - it was the last television my Father bought before he died. It dates back to 1991 and happens to have been in my dorm room, my first apartment, my second apartment, etc... I didn't want to watch 'Supernatural' (whatever that is) so I flipped through the channels and found ABC Family. It was at the point of a commercial, but I figured I was good to go with whatever they were airing and I sat down to relax.

This is going on in my head: Awe...there's cute little turtles being born (something here sounds vaguely familiar)...turn it off Crystal...no, this reminds me of a book I read...turn it off Crystal...no, just a little longer, I want to figure out what book this is based on...

The father collapses on the beach and it hits me like a ton of bricks...this is a movie based on the book "The Last Song" by Nicholas Sparks. It was an unforgettable book. Before I tell you what happens next - in my basement that is, I'll back up and tell you that it took me months to read the book. It was about a father who was dying. His children were small and he wasn't ready to let go any more than they were ready to grow up without him. I read the book slowly because it would get painful and I had to put it down for days and sometimes weeks. When I would build up courage, I could pick it up again. Reading it took me back in time to the fourteen year old me who wasn't sure what life would be like after my father's diagnosis of cancer...wasn't sure what life would be like after he was gone...and then reality would set in about the 30 something year old me who was sure what life would be like - the woman who knows the sadness of hitting life's milestones without her best friend.

So tonight...I was stuck in my chair crying so hard that my lap and my shirt were wet, my eyes turned red, and I didn't physically or emotionally have the strength to get up. I was hoping someone would find me, pick me up, and lie to me...tell me that everything is going to be okay...tell me that in 50 days when I walk down the isle that I'm not going to feel an unbearable amount of sadness...

I had to protect myself so before the father died, I got up and turned off the television and took an incredibly long shower. I cursed my mother for not protecting me (not that she could have). I cursed God for allowing things like this to happen. I cursed everyone who came to the funeral and said 'it's going to be okay honey, it will get better' and I cursed all the well meaning people who said, 'you were the reason he lived as long as he did'....I yelled at them the loudest and said "then I guess I failed didn't I? Because if I was the reason he lived as long as he did he should have fucking lived longer, because I needed him". I cursed the nearly 20 years that have gone by because I needed him every minute of every day and he would only be 82 years old - that's not that old.

I'm crying again now...because I know he's the reason I am usually so positive and he would be disappointed at all these tears tonight. The moral of my story is that mourning isn't something you can measure in hours, days, or years. It's not even a state of mind...it's just something that happens whether you intend it or not, expect it or not...when someone you love dies, your life is forever changed. Mourning isn't a period of time, it's something that's integrated into your new life. If you ignore it it just might hit you like a load of bricks.

So my take away for myself is I should allow myself to be sad more often, instead of breaking down once or twice a year. Now I am empty...

Thank you for letting me share - this is my therapy. If something here speaks to you, please leave a comment...

May your paths be abundantly filled with lemons, sugar, and sunshine along with a small bit of sadness for good measure from time to time.


~Crystal