When you're grieving someone so deeply, everything seems trivial compared to the weight of the loss you feel. I know people grow weary of seeing me and some avoid me altogether for fear I might break down and cry. So, I put on a smile, laugh, listen to a joke or tell a joke or two, when what I really want to do is cry until I can't cry anymore.
I go to the store, buy groceries, take the kids to the dentist - all the routine things, but I'd rather lie in bed and cry - the kind of crying that makes your head ache. If I could I would lay down for the rest of my life and grieve, but I know I have to carry on. Not so much for me, but for the sake of everyone around me I have to smile and pretend that I'm moving forward.
The reality is that I haven't move very far. I'm still living December 21st, 2011 - the day I was visited by a Sheriff's Deputy with 2 pieces of paper in his hand (one a blown up photo of Julian's I.D. the other a letter from a North Dakota state trooper).
I relive the phone call. "Please, don't tell me what you're going to tell me."
"Ma'am, I'm sorry to tell you this, but Julian Gomez Mazaba was killed in a car accident..."
With those fateful words my world spiralled and spun off it's axis and would surely never be the same.
And so I became a pretender...pretending to smile, pretending laugh, pretending to live...pretending that I'm strong enough to stand and not fall under the weight this great loss. How selfish I am to want so badly to have Julian here with me. How selfish I am to want that last day back. So I'll pretend. I'll pretend. I'll pretend...that I'm okay.
It seems an eternity. You are going through the motions because that is what a mother does. It will take a long time..forever.. I hope the hurting diminishes just a fraction soon for you, Renee
ReplyDeleteRenee, you are in the throws of the most unimaginable grieving and there isn't much I can say to ease that. It's a very lonely journey; your world has stopped and you will be going through the routine of living and coping, much as you've shared in this blog post. I so wish you didn't have to go through the pain of losing Julian. Beth has said it well....we all hope the hurting diminishes just a fraction soon for you, Renee.
ReplyDeleteNo need to pretend. True friends will understand - or try to understand - the depth of your pain. My friend lost her son last Christmas, he was hit by a car on a rainy night when his car broke down and he had gotten out to look under the hood and he was hit. He was 27. She had the same experience with the phone call and the knock at the door. She still relives it sometimes, but she said its not so often anymore, so there is hope there. Hang in there and don't be afraid to keep his memory alive. We are all praying for you and your children to get through this unimaginable nightmare.
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