So I'm starting a blog. Why the hell not? Maybe it will get some of the stuff out of my head or at least help me in making sense of it. So pick something that's on my mind and discuss. That's how it usually rolls. Let me start it out simply.
I am a fairly nice yet definitely weird girl. The title of the blog is a forewarning. I'm going to pour out my heart on these pages. If you don't care or don't want to know, this would be a good time to click on something else.
Why or how am I weird? I hate lies. Even the pretty ones we tell each other everyday. I want to be able to live in a world where if I'm asked "How are you?" it's ok to tell the truth. But you can't just put that weight that you're carrying on someone else, can you? It's not fair to them.
The truth is this. Right now, I'm mourning. I'm sad. I'm isolating myself. Again being the good girl not the burden. The problem with mourning is that you can only share it with the people missing the same person. Other deaths don't matter to you. Of course you feel sorry for those who have lost family or friends or lovers. But it's different. You know a piece of your heart is torn out, but you don't want to experience that for other people. Their pain is theirs. It's not mine. I have problems of my own. I think it's survival. I can only handle so much at once.
Death has always bothered me. A long time ago, I lost a considerable amount of people in a short period of time. I wasn't able to mourn properly then, so now they haunt me each time mortality rears it's head again. Not literally. I have experienced ghosts before but only one was someone I lost. Lost. When you lose someone dear to your heart that's how you feel. Lost. Confused. Looking for a helpful guide to show you the way out back to familiar faces and situations and the normal day to day life.
This past year, I lost both of my mother's parents. My mom and her siblings are orphans now. That's the thought that keeps running through my head. My mom no longer has her mom or her dad. I wonder if she feels cast adrift and suddenly forced into a higher role in life. I don't ask cause I don't want to hear her cry. I know her pain is more than mine. How can it not be? These were the people who raised her, taught her right from wrong, loved and supported her. I can't compare my loss to hers. Even though it's for the same people. I lost family that I rarely saw and I grew up away from. They meant something to me in my life. But like all fools I take it for granted that the people I love will always be there.
I was wrong. I miss the lost opportunities to get to know the real people they were. I miss my grandmother humming and singing while working in the kitchen. I regret that I treated family like a burden rather than a blessing. "Fine, Mom. I'll call Grandma and see how she is. But not today. I don't have time for her right now. You know how she rambles on." So now I regret the calls I didn't make. The trips I didn't take.
I know they knew I loved them. I just thought I had time. You always think there's enough time to say what you need to say. If I have a child, they won't know them. Not that I plan to but I allow for the possibility. So I also regret things that never were.
That's how I am. A mass of regret and sadness and lost. But you can't say that. That's not acceptable. Death happens to everyone. This one isn't any different. They were old and they had their time and now they're up in heaven. They're just fine so don't you worry about a thing and smile already. Life goes on.
Sometimes I wish I lived in older times. Back then, you wore black for a year for a loved one. Then muted colors after that, then finally allowed to wear bright colors again when you spirit was back in bloom. It was an outward sign to proclaim to the world, I've lost someone. Be kind, be gentle with me. Now it's unfashionable to wear black even to their funeral.
It's not acceptable to be sad. Soldier on. Buck up. Persevere. They're dead. You can't do anything about it now.
It's not even that I'm worried about their souls. I know they're with God. I know they had good lives and long ones. They used to pray together and read from the bible to each other every night before bed. They prayed for the kids and the grandkids and the great grandkids. They loved God and were completely unashamed of it. They had faith that could move mountains.
That's what I miss most about them. Their solidity. In a world that changed and flowed all the time, they held to each other and family and God.
Time for me to wrap this up, I've gone on too long already. The only thing I can do with my regrets is use them to remember not to do it that way again. At least I can try. That's all we can do isn't it? Try. So I'll try to keep in touch with those I love. I'll try to understand them. I'll try to not have more regrets.
Thank you for reading this. It means you're trying to understand me.