The Worst Waiting Game

I feel like grieving before someone is gone is one of the more mindfucking, yet less discussed, aspects of loss.

Whether it’s a long battle with illness where you reach the point of no return and you’re now discussing hospice and comfort care…

Or if it’s still sudden, but they’re hanging on with life support.

You’re looking at them.

They’re still breathing.

But you’re mourning.

And you feel MORBID AF.

They’re still here, but they’re not.

One foot in each world…

Your heart is broken, but your grief can’t fully process yet because while it’s inevitable, right in front of your very eyes in some cases, they are still there… breathing.

Letting go

We’re all letting go.

They’re letting go of this life for whatever comes after.  As my Pap liked to say, “Now they know the secret.”  They’re letting go of this body.  They’re letting go of all that attaches them to this life.

We’re letting go of them.

But we don’t want to.  We’re not ready.

We think we get ready, sometimes, when it’s illness.  Sometimes we convince ourselves that we’re preparing ourselves… but when that time comes.

When that final breath leaves their body….

You weren’t ready.

You’re never ready.

I think sometimes we’re about as ready as we can humanly get.  I think that we’re unable to get there any other way than the ways we do it.  But it sure is a mindfuck, ain’t it?

Your brain starts to go to selfish things.  You see them, they’re in their final weeks, or days, or hours… and you’re thinking about how much you’re going to miss them.  Sometimes your brain strays to errant thoughts about things like what you’ll wear to the funeral, what you might say in the eulogy… and then you get furious at yourself.   You feel horrible.  How can you possibly be thinking of these things right now instead of enjoying what moments you have left with them?
But think about that part too.

“enjoying what moments you have left with them”

How do you REALLY enjoy them?

You can appreciate the time spent with family.  You can appreciate shoulders to cry on if you’re lucky enough to have them…

But enjoying it?  Wow… I mean… like, that’s just so hard.

In the back of your mind remains the goodbye.  The back, the front, it sort of bounces back and forth.

Now, me?  I don’t think about what I’ll wear the funeral anymore, but I used to.  That’s why I put that up there.  That used to be something that occurred to me at some point.

Now it doesn’t matter.

I have a funeral section in my closet.  There are things ranging in 4 different sizes, with choices for various types of weather, from all the funeral outfits of those gone before where I built up this morbidly practical collection.

When I met my husband he felt that was horrible… but for me… for me it was a part of life.

I’ve had those losses that came out of nowhere where I had nothing to wear and I had to take myself and the kids shopping at the last minute when I had 847 other things to do and shopping was the last thing I wanted to do.

For those that know me… they know how much I hate shopping. Lol

But it’s a lot.

But anyways, I digress.

Sometimes we sit around and tell stories.

Sometimes we go grab a bite to eat, afraid to leave and miss it.

I think about things a lot.  I think about what those last moments are like.

I’ve had a few.  I’ve had those moments that I thought with absolute certainty would be my last.

I know what I’ll spend my final moments thinking about.

And I’m not afraid.  I’ll be devastated leaving my kids behind, but I’m not afraid of death.

I have far more people on that side than this one at this point.

A large part of me can’t wait to wrap my arms around Gigi again and hug my sisters.

What do other people think about?

I’ve seen plenty of people take that last breath.

I’ve spoken to many in the days leading up to their death.

The answers are always different, which makes the pondering endless..

Will you wonder what your next life will bring? I mean, if you believe in reincarnation. I do, so I think about those things, but other people wouldn’t.

Will you wonder who each of your loves in this life will be to you in the next?  Will your daughter be your mother? Will your son be your brother? Will you reunite with the love of your life in your next life?

What life will you choose? What obstacles will you face?

Or do you fight it?

Do you fight to hang on?  Do you fight eternal darkness or possible damnation? Do you fight the unknown that awaits us there? … finding out the secret?

Do we panic?

Are we calm?

Do we find peace? Redemption?

Do we find anything at all?

Is it a guide?
Are they all waiting for us like an airport terminal?

I wish I could be there to hold your hand, Mother of my Heart.

I’ve already planned your tattoo, and that breaks my heart.  It makes me feel so morbid.

I’m braced to lose you.

I’m braced for the phone call that means you’re really gone.

But I’m not.

It’s 2am here.

It’s almost today where you are.

Will you make it?

Are you ready?

I don’t want to do your tattoo.  I don’t want to ask for a funeral card to be mailed to me because I can’t make it across the country to be there in person.

I don’t want to.

I don’t want to.

I DON’T WANT TO.

But I have to.

We all have to.

Your husband has to.

Your daughters have to.

Your sons have to.

Your grandchildren have to.

Your nieces and nephews have to.

Everyone who has ever known you will mourn when you go.

What a life well spent.

What a legacy to leave behind…

What a loss for us.

But you’re still here.

YOU ARE STILL HERE

I DO NOT WANT TO BE SAD

I DO NOT WANT TO LOSE YOU

You see, folks.  My mother of my heart?  I’ve never even gotten a hug from her.

This woman has saved my life, literally saved my life, and I’ve never hugged her.

I was her daughter of her heart for… oh, nearly a decade now.

We’ve spoken on the phone, through messages, through mail…

My own mother, well, she’s a piece of work and we’ll leave it at that because this isn’t about her.

I’ve had many pseudo moms in my life and I’ve lost every single one.

I’m afraid to find another and risk condemning her to an early death.

Cindy, she is the only reason I survived high school.  Her, her husband Mark (my cousin,) and Nells.

She taught me what it felt like to be loved for who I was.  Tripped me out.

She had a heart attack just over 10 years ago.

My oldest was 3.

Her husband just passed on last year.

(But I just saw nells a couple months ago <3 )

Debbie.  She was very much like a mom to me during the years I spent in Kentucky.  Prevented me from being homeless twice.

She died of cancer not long after I moved back to Pittsburgh.

I still wonder if she knew how much she meant to me.

Gigi….

Gigi was so many things to me, but a mom was one of them.

Losing her…. I just can’t.

I don’t think I’ll ever be the same since losing her.

And now Z.. Mother of my Heart.

Now you.

I’m such a selfish jerk, just thinking about having to lose you.

I’m heartbroken for your family, your family there with you. .. your real family.

I can’t sleep.

I can’t sleep because I’m waiting for a phone call or a message that I don’t want to get.

I’m thinking a thousand things.

I’m not thinking about things left unsaid though.

I have felt loved by you from the moment we met.

I know you know how much that love is returned.

And that love doesn’t die with you.

That love continues until my own dying breath, and the dying breaths of everyone who ever knew you and was influenced by you.

That saying about how we die twice… your second death will take quite some time because there are things you taught me that I have already taught my children, who will pass it on to theirs.

It’s just not good enough.

Goodbye has already been said…

Grief is already tearing my soul apart.

And you’re still breathing…

What a mindfuck.