#but no for real i am big sad about beth's statement coming back to bite her in the ass

[kcsfalloutshelter]

Happy?… Thanksgiving

The crying continues. One minute I am decorating and feeling the spirit of the holidays and yearning for the joys of the past. The next…I am longing for my grandmother and my dad and all that I feel I have lost over the last few years.

This year feels more painful than last year. Maybe, I was in shock for a year. I don’t remember feeling so heart-broken last year. It was brand new, fresh last year. Grandma has been gone almost two years. Yet, it feels like yesterday when they left me.

I spent most of the 2017 taking care of dad and trying to avoid inhaling the ever rising floor waters around me. I let myself fall apart for my birthday. I stayed in bed and cried like I had not cried in a very long time.

Just when I thought I couldn’t stand the pain another minute, Warren’s grandma called me. All I wanted was a call from my grandma and my prayers were answered. We often don’t get exactly what we ask. We get what we need.

After my birthday, I wiped myself off, put on my big-girl panties, and got on with the daily schedule.

This denial…which I didn’t even realize I was in until right now… was easily hidden because dad was getting so much sicker.

Dad and I had a conversation in last September. The cancer had used the chemo and radiation as fertilizer.

I love my dad. I could not have asked for a better dad. He had faults. Lots. But, he was my dad. He was there for me no matter what, always.

Why I felt the need to justify that statement is beyond my knowledge at the moment. Further investigation may need to happen.

The conversation lead to dad’s last gift for Beth and I.  Thanksgiving and Christmas have been the big holidays in our family all our lives. Slight changes over the years but the foundation stayed. Grandma died in the middle of December. I basically begged my dad to either die before December or wait until after January.

Sounds harsh but the conversation wasn’t. Dad understood.

This conversation was another where dad said he was ready to go home. He didn’t want the pain his body was being tortured with every second of every day. But, he didn’t want to leave us either.

I promise to take care of my sister.

Another revelation…more tears too. I didn’t feel the real weight of this promise until now.

The last real conversation grandma and I had consisted of a similar promise.

I promise to keep our family traditions alive.

These promises came almost 10 months apart. Thanksgiving was a no show.

I have been increasingly anxious about decorating the house. Creating lasting holiday memories for my grandsons. Crushed by traditions that are being changed or lost. Brainstorming how to keep our family together and help shape our traditions to honor the past while being flexible to the current family schedules, and locations.

I have felt like it was up to me alone to determine, or plan to keep, family traditions alive. It is not up to me alone. I am one of thirteen grandchildren. Several of us have adult children. Although, I believe I am the only grandma.

Is that why I feel like I am the head of this insane pack?

Maybe…

While letting this post write itself, like ink flowing from the quills of Lord Tennyson’s mind, I am continually amazed by the connections my mind makes.

Critical thinking is obviously a blessed companion to wandering.

I am trying to plan and be joyful.

I want to smile and laugh.

I want to be free of the aching pain that fills my chest and threatens to drown me.

I do not want to bite at my husband. I do not want to avoid family and friends.

So, I take it minute by minute.

In an effort to feel better, Wednesday night,  I drug all the Christmas decoration storage boxes from the basement. The idea was to have the boxes ready for decorating after the Macy’s Parade.

Hit the music, Please.

A little Lauren Daigle and friends.

Some of the boxes are damp. I knew I should have changed to all plastic bins. 100 year old house comes with some challenges. In the end, all are well worth the work. I love my house, even the rooms we haven’t fixed yet.

See? Do you already have emotional whiplash? My husband says he does…

The music played. I sorted and tossed items that were damp or falling apart from age.

  Bringing up the bins.

After sorting a bit…

  The orange bin…Some pieces from my grandma’s village live in the orange bin for 10 months a year. After grandma passed away, we got to split up the village between all the grandchildren and great grandchildren. It was her pride and joy. She loved her village. We all would help her add to her collection over the years. Most of us went on to start our own villages.

In 2013, my cousin and her family helped grandma put up a large portion of grandma’s village. The love and memories that are attached to each building, tree, person, pathway and light are irreplaceable.

What did grandma’s 2013 village really look like? Glad you asked…

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So, happiness fulled the air. Warren commented that he felt grandma and dad in the room with us. As we chatted, I kept moving boxes and trying to decide why I was just moving the items into another box or bin, when we were just going to take them back out Thursday.

Let the decorating begin.

Five hours later, Warren begs me to take my tired self to bed. I am tired. I am that tired that seeps in you bones and makes your muscles ache. My eyes burn and are a delightfully puffy shade of rouge.

But, will this happiness leave if I rest?

1 AM – I finally submit to trying to sleep.

Toss. Turn. TOSS. TURN.

Have you played this fun game? Delightful.

2 AM – Not going to happen.

Insomnia sucks!

Back downstairs to the bins. No radio. Fix what is bugging me and go back to bed. That is the plan. Stick to the plan.

Sure.

Not going to happen.

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That’s it. Five pictures.

What time did I fall asleep?

3:30 AM.

I was not working on just these. No, that would make sense. I was still sorting bags and bins. The orange bin has returned to the safety of the basement as it is only full of packing paper.

I have also decided to go through all three drawers under the window seat in the dining room.

Why?

Well, I found a glue gun. No glue. I thought I saw some glue in one of the drawers. I throw things in two of the drawers all the time. You know that quick clean up of random items that mysteriously appear, through the help of no one living, and Never leave.

Not there. At least, the drawers are clean and organized again.

I slept through my 8:45 AM alarm. Of course.

Way to go, wacky sleep pattern and racing mind for the win.

I missed the beginning of the Macy’s parade. At least we decided no turkey…or ham…or gathering of any sort days ago. So, no food is ruined. I am Blessed.

I have to look at the silver lining, the blessings, the miracles above the pain. Above the Anger. I feel it simmering below the surface.

I want to lash out. I want everyone to hurt as much as I do. I never want anyone to ever feel as much pain as I do now.

Poor, Warren. Some one really should get him a helmet and shoulder pads.

I am sure you are bursting with interest in what we did eat. Sorry, had to poke fun at our desire to share our meals with each other via virtual images. I have been the poster of many breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. Not to mention, additional posts of ice cream and cake. Warren and I love sweets, almost as much as we love each other.

Constant blessings are in my life. I just have to remember to look . Warren talks me down when the anger threatens to spill out the door and down the highway. I thankfully know the tricks to anchor him when similar events arise.

Food Choice: Breakfast – Chocolate chip waffles.  When? Still pending.

Current time: 5:58 PM Thursday, November 22, 2018.

Oh great! Another day where eating wasn’t a priority. Too bad eating one meal a day doesn’t make you thinner. But, we also know how picky I am…You missed that post? Oh, take a look back over past posts. I know I have mentioned it. 🙂

I have cried. I have laughed. I have been thankful. I have been angry. I have been blessed.

I need to keep reminding myself that dad and grandma, and everyone else we have lost over the past 8 years, are right here with us. I just need to stop. Breathe. Listen. They are there. A wise person told me today that I know exactly what they would say to me if I was talking to them . Listen. You can hear them with you.

Death is not the end. We will see each other again.

Each time depression bares down, pulling me down a dark path, I remember that I am not alone. Even when I cannot see, I am being carried. I am Loved.

So, let the anger pass. Cry every tear that wants to fall. Whether you are in denial, anger, sadness, bargaining, or acceptance, let your grief run it’s own race. Don’t expect to one day wake up and never feel sad again.

I am grateful for every emotion. These emotions hold precious memories linked to the most important people and events in my life. Without these moments, I would not be who I am.

Life sucks. Grief sucks.

Smile through the pain. Remember we are never truly along. We just need to stop. Breathe. Listen. …and don’t forget to go eat something.

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  Happy? Thanksgiving... Can we be thankful when we are in pain? Can grief over-shadow joy? Happy?... Thanksgiving The crying continues. One minute I am decorating and feeling the spirit of the holidays and yearning for the joys of the past.