This day marks the end of one of worst weeks of my life. I have a handful of those in my past: post-Billy's dad, post-Missy's dad, post-almost dying x 2, post-the Missy fallout. This one tops the list for me. It has been a whirlwind of family, flowers, food... and deep deep pain.
I haven't been sleeping. I am exhausted. I look like hell. And I still feel strangely empty and lost. And confused. The funeral was... indescribable. I saw Charles after eight years. I vaguely reconciled with Faith after two years of hate. The potential for reconciliation with Emily is on the horizon. Katherine apologized for being an absentee aunt. Regrets abounded. Taking family for granted was a recurring theme of regret. My daughter has upped her level of "challenging toddler" this week and I am just too raw to deal properly.
What are the stages of grief? Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. I think I've felt all but acceptance simultaneously throughout these seven earth-shattering days. The markings of today are certainly not what I would have guessed one week ago. Right now I am confused by all the family that have made themselves available, Blue's Clues is on in the background, I'm exhausted beyond measure, and Grandpa is gone. None of these things were even a thought last Monday.
Glimpses of him keeping popping in my head and I want to hug him. I want to see him smile while telling the same wry joke to someone new. I want to see the way he cocked his head and smiled when he didn't hear what you said but genuinely wanted to know. I want to have a family dinner at Stockman's that he would insist to pay for no matter who's idea it was to go out. I want so many things I can never have again.
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