I’ve been a little quiet on here. And without turning this post into one that’s gloomy gloom, the truth is that I’ve been pretty sad. Losing someone very, extremely, close does that to you.
But this is not a post about mourning. He didn’t deserve that. Because he was bright and funny and bubbly and all the happy things and he would be saying right now: Kitty Kat, for fucks sake, you’re depressing me. I’m upstairs entertaining everyone and you’re still writing about sad shit. It’s all good. Now, God, even though I didn’t even believe you existed when I was on Earth, pass me a cold one, would ya?
So this post is dedicated to Life. And the resilience of the human spirit.
When we found out the news, I felt immediate pain. No long, processing stares like in the movies.
It was immediate. Immediate pain and heartbreak. I heard it. My heart actually cracked in half.
But still. It was early morning and my kids were starving. They were confused and starving. They were asking me in their little voices to stop crying Mamma and can they have rice bubbles now?
How was I going to get out of my bed? How was I going to face the light coming through the kitchen?
How would I face the world?
But still. The wails came from my girls, Miss 4 and Miss 2. They were still starving. And still confused.
I finally found the energy to drag myself out of bed and make them breakfast. Rice Bubbles with milk and a sprinkle of fresh, sad, salty tears.
I sat down at my desk and looked through my huge, enormous list of shit to do for the day. Important things to do. Some things could wait, others couldn’t. Some things involved phone calls to real people. People that weren’t in utter shock. People that were able to speak without a quivering voice. People that needed to be spoken to by me on that day but how the hell was I going to be able to do anything?
And so the days went on. The grief came in patches. But shit needed to get done. Lunches had to be made for the kids that still had their appetite. Dinners still had to be cooked, or bought, to at least try to keep going with some kind of nourishment. Kids still had to be driven to school. Work had to be completed, or attempted. Bills had to be paid. Errands still had to be run. Washing had to be done, clothes had to be folded. Groceries had to be shopped for.
For a while there, I couldn’t taste my coffee. But I still drank it. Because coffee. I strolled my trolley through the grocery store aisles like a zombie. I missed shit I needed to buy, if I could even remember what I needed to buy. On the day after the news I bought every kind of junk food you could imagine not because I wanted to eat it, but because I thought it would cheer all the other sad souls up.
But of course it didn’t.
And so more days went on. And things felt a little, tiny bit, the smallest fraction, better, as time passed. The sadness stayed, but still, life went on.
Isn’t that amazing? How life, and time, stops for no one.
If you asked me how we would cope with something like this, before the news, I would say we just couldn’t. How the fuck could we cope with such a loss?
Still, I wonder how we’re doing it. But we are. We’re getting by.
Don’t feel sad for me. Loss happens to everyone. At some point, everyone will feel debilitating sadness in some shape or form.
A friend said to me recently that even though the sadness will always be there, to some degree, the love you feel for that person never leaves. It stays the same for as long as you live.
After all, the sadness we feel has come from love. Real, pure love. That can never be forgotten.