I’m trying hard to have some normalcy to my life. Even when I get overwhelmed, I simply excuse myself and go have a moment in the bathroom or alone in another room. Last night, I attended a Christmas party, and although I do think it was good I attended, I felt as if I didn’t belong.
There were a lot of former work colleagues there, and my current situation is no secret. It was extremely uncomfortable to have so many people come up saying more of the same. The almond shaped eyes of concern matching with the softened voice of “I’ve been thinking about you. You’re in my heart,” was as common a tagline as “does anyone need another drink?” I’m so exhausted from it. I’m so tired of everyones pity. Words do not make me feel better. The sympathy that is pouring out like a faucet when I walk into room is somewhat disingenuous. Especially when everyone is laughing hysterically and once I walk into the room a wave of silence falls over the group. It’s a worse feeling then overhearing someone talking behind your back, because you know exactly what is going through everyone’s minds at that moment. This is as glaring as a grape juice stain on a white sheet. If someone I know has a family member or friend pass away, I will send them thoughts of empowerment rather than condolences. I’m completely helpless. The outside world is continuing to go on, while I just stay frozen in time. I need a hand, I need a push to go on, but instead all I get is sympathy. I was told I will be older when this fabric of grief is laced into my character and I’m beginning to see why.
With everything going on, I’ve started to see how difficult this is for my parents and siblings. There’s so many problems that can be resolved or covered up until a better solution comes along, but this is a time for them where they can’t do anything. All they can do is sit by me and watch me suffer. I’m not a parent, but I was talking with one of my friends with a kid and they kind of shined the light on a parent’s perspective. When we were talking, they couldn’t keep eye contact with me and kept shaking her head saying , “I can’t imagine what your parents are going through.” She said she would do anything possible to protect her child, and this is just… well she trailed off also, but the message was loud and clear.
Parents try to protect their children, regardless of age, and with a grieving child, this is one problem that is entirely is out of anyone’s control. And how young George was is hard to ignore. He was 46. Not only is his age, situation tugging at any person’s heart, but I’m a 28 year old widow. Except I hear about these drone strikes that are wiping out dozens of civilians and it does bring perspective that things could in fact be worse. Anyway, all my parents can do is be there as a support pillar; Try to lend a hand when I collapse, and lift my chin up and say, “go on, you’ll be okay. Eventually.” I appreciate their support more than anything in the world right now. It’s hard to explain, but without them encouraging me to keep plugging along regardless of how difficult the day has or will be, I would 100% be a recluse.
Will Smith was wrong, parents do understand. Is it noticeable that my mind is a little scattered right now?