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Tuesday, July 12, 2011

It doesn't play fair

I think what I hate most about grief is its unpredictability. Just when I think I finally have a handle on it, when I think I am finally navigating my way through, when I'm starting to believe that perhaps there is healing, when I'm getting to the point where it's finally easier to breathe...

the rules up and change.

Grief does not play fair. It lurks in unsuspecting corners, lies in wait for when you at your most vulnerable, and plays on what once was safe and familiar. A photograph you've looked at a thousand times a day suddenly catches your eye in a different light and just about breaks your heart. A song that has absolutely nothing to do with death, grief, or loss has you weeping over your steering wheel because it's a new song that Emily has never heard, but she'd probably love it. Someone asks you how many brothers/sisters you have, and you still do not know how to answer that question. A photograph of her drinking out of a plastic cup makes you inexplicably pissed off at the fact that the very same cup is still in the cupboard all these years later, but she's gone. Throughout ordinary convervastions- the word "diabetes" comes up at least once a week. Why is that?

Grief doesn't play fair. It changes the rules.

For the first two years, Emily's birthday didn't hit me as hard as the day she died. The 1st of April forever will be the day that my life, and the life of my family and Emily's friends changes. It's a giant, ragged gash in my timeline. And every time it rolls around, it marks another year that she's been gone. The 1st of April is like a shadow that I know I can't escape. It's expected, and I'm learning how to wait out the shadow of that day. But her birthday was different. I think because in my mind, she'll never be more than 20. It's hard to imagine what she'd be like at 24, because it would be just that- an imagining. Without her here to incessantly bug me about what I bought her, or where we were going to dinner, it's easier to let the day go by with a remembering, but not dwelling. For me, her birthday was easier to get through, because as callous as this soounds.... without her here the day lost its significance for me.

But oh no... not this year. Grief decided to throw me a curveball and turn me into a complete, weeping mess. I miss her today so much I can literally feel the ache. I close my eyes and picture her, and it feels so real I don't want to open my eyes. I plugged in my iPod on the way to work, in the hopes of drowning out the sorrows in my head. Lately I've been on a Melissa Etheridge kick, and I figured she'd be a safe choice- there's not alot of sorrow in her rock-style singing. But grief, in its cosmic plot against me, had other ideas. The song "Breathe" came on, which contains the lyrics of a chorus that goes "I'm alright, I'm alright. It only hurts when I breathe."

And cue the water works. That line, that chorus, sums up my existence lately. I'm alright, I say. Sure, I'm fine. Put on a smile, work hard, laugh, best foot forward. But meanwhile, each breath is an aching for what's missing.

Grief doesn't play fair.

I sobbed my way through the song. Then figured if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. I switched on my playlist I've entitled "Emily", which is every song I have that makes me think of her, and I bawled my eyes out on my way to work. I gave in and I cried for the heart-ache, for the unfairness of it all, for the loneliness, for the breaking and mending of a heart, for the memories that were, and the ones that will never be.

I can't say that I felt better- nothing will ever make it better. But I did feel a little less despondent, and at least ready to face the world. (Once I cleaned up my face. Note to self- buy waterproof mascara).

Grief may not play fair, but then again.... it's never played against me.

Breathe- Melissa Etheridge

I played the fool today
I just dream of vanishing into the crowd
Longing for home again Home,
is a feeling I buried in you

I'm alright, I'm alright
It only hurts when I breathe

And I can't ask for things to be still again
No I can't ask if I could walk through the world in your eyes
Longing for home again Home,
is a feeling I buried in you

I'm alright, I'm alright
It only hurts when I breathe
I'm alright, I'm alright
It only hurts when I breathe

My window through which nothing hides
And everything sees
I'm counting the signs and cursing the miles in between
Home

Home, is a feeling I buried in you, that I buried in you

I'm alright, I'm alright
It only hurts when I breathe
I'm alright, I'm alright
It only hurts when I breathe, when I breathe
Yeah, it only hurts when I breathe, when I breathe
Oh,it only hurts when I breathe

2 comments:

AkasaWolfSong said...

Grief doesn't play fair Melissa and over time we just learn to rearrange it or work it so that we are not so consumed by it. It changes I know that. As someone who has lost many immediate family members I know that grief still remains for me but I know too that I've grown with the grief and it becomes something different today.

Godspeed as you heal Precious One...your's is still fairly fresh and new...gee, I'm years past some of the losses I've experienced and I'm still working on them.

One thing I do know is that I've experienced grace unfolding in memories I cherish of those who've gone before me and I embrace that just like the love I still hold for them. :)

May Grace find its way to you in those most simplest of moments to bring you fresh insights and breath....

Many Blessings!

Merry ME said...

Life in general doesn't play fair. I think that's why I've struggled so. I've often said, just give me the rule sheet so I'll know what to do and how to do it. Alas, there is no rule sheet. We just do the best we can.

Sounds like you are learning to care for yourself. This is a good thing.

Slow and steady with a big box of tissues wins the race!

P.S. I gave up mascara all together!