The Ugly Cry

So when tomorrow starts without me

Don't think we're far apart,
For every time you think of me,

I'm right here, in your heart.

 

(When Tomorrow Starts Without Me by David Romano) 

 

Monday morning I woke up with that feeling that my steady pace was plummeting into a quick decent thus it would be wise to fasten my seat belt and keep my hands and arms inside the moving vehicle.  Up until then Maya had been having a rough week yet I had been able to mostly keep my head above water.

This Monday I woke up wondering why the elephant had reestablished residence on my chest.  I didn't want to get out of bed and quite honestly it was a struggle to get myself to move.  In the wee hours of the morning sadness had moved in to envelope me.

 

In my day to day activities I wonder if I give the impression that I'm doing fine...business as usual.  I wonder if people know I'm sad or if this mask I am wearing is too thick to see the truth.

 

Today someone I have known since I was a small child had a double mastectomy in a return battle with breast cancer.  The anger toward all the sadness and struggle in this world has overpowered me. The unfairness in life is a blaring siren in my heart.

I am trying to look at the good things.  The bounteous nature of those around us is stunning.  My children's laughter is an amazing contrast to the stark bareness in my heart. 

I am wrestling with the abyss in my life.  

Today Owen said 'School' and all I could think of was calling Chris to tell him.  While I was making dinner the kids kept wanting me to play the same song over and over.  Every 2 minutes and 57 seconds I was back to press play.  On a return trip to the kitchen I looked at a picture of Chris hanging on my fridge and did what Oprah would call 'the ugly cry.'  In our normal life he would have been out dancing with them and starting the song over.  In this life I am too frazzled trying to get dinner on the table to stop and admire my babies joy.  It just pisses me off.  Tonight Chris would have enjoyed the howling wind and side blowing snow.  He would have reassured me that the trees will not fall on our house. 

An entire list of people who have said "call any time, day or night" meanders through my mind.  Tonight I threw around names...who to call; I needed someone to reach out to.  In the end, I didn't call anyone because what was I going to say and then what would they say back?  I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable and all that would have come out is 'the ugly cry'.  At 9:30 p.m. the phone rang but I couldn't bring myself to say anything to steer the conversation off course toward my void.  I suppose the crux of the situation is that grief is quite like an iceberg out at sea.  There is nothing there to truly sustain life thus the objective is to find a way  back to land.  

 

On days like this I feel like I have lost both my dignity as well as my sanity.  At least this time I saw the wall coming 36 hours before actual impact.   Perhaps next time I will have the foresight to put my helmet on before arrival.