Witty Title Pending

Grief is a quiet thing, that sneaks up on me.  It catches in the back of my throat, when I least expect it.  It makes my eyes water and I am stuck deciding whether to have a good cry or whether PCH is a dangerous place for blurred vision.

Today I picked up my new wedding set.  Nana decided that it was time that I turn one of her diamonds into an engagement ring.  I have worn all day, but it wasn’t until I was on my way home that I started to think about him and what it would mean to him that I was wearing it.

I think I have spent the past couple of weeks reeling from the blow and it hasn’t properly sunk in until this week.  It was my first funeral.  I gave the eulogy and kept it together.. mostly.  I met new family.  I saw old friends.  I was told I look like my mother more times than I can count.  I got mistaken for my mother for the first time.  That was new.

I know I need to give myself time, but I don’t really have the time right now.  I have to take these finals and write this paper and pass the Bar so I can be the lawyer he wanted me to be.  For now grief is going to have to be something I fight back and push under the rug.  And my therapist said that is okay.  So it is okay.

In the week after it happened my life reached dizzying levels of insanity.  I have since pushed things back, reorganized, and just stopped trying in some instances.  I, and the Dean, agree, I just need to pass. Just need to pass.

I will likely do more than that, but that is my goal for now.

I am not a keep things quiet type of person.  But this I have.  I don’t want to put my grief on others who didn’t ask for it.  So here is where I speak, for now.

On a sidenote.  Holy diamond, Batman! I feel like I have a weapon.

My grandpa died early yesterday morning. My grandma was in the bed next to him.  They got to spend his last few days together in an assisted care facility.

No one ever tells you that when someone dies, their body isn’t magically taken away – poof! Off to the crematorium.  No one tells you that it actually takes several hours for the grim reaper and his sidekicks to arrive.  With paperwork.  And more paperwork.  And someone, somehow needs to find the urn.  STAT. He can’t go without the urn?  And your left wondering – is it more logical to hide an urn in the closet or under the sink? Surely not with the chips and cookies in the pantry.  The library seemed to make sense, but it isn’t there. Maybe in the garage?

Then you find the urn located inside a vault you didn’t know existed and you take another step forward. Breathe.

No one tells you that you will just feel like you need to call someone, anyone, so you aren’t just sitting there.  But the truth is, when people die of old age, there aren’t that many people to call.  Children? Check.  Siblings? Check.  Now what?

No one tells you that in between grief and crying your brain goes to normal things.  Like, why did I have that second cup of coffee?  Or, my God, I look like hell.  And then you feel guilty for even noticing your hair and then you feel guilty for not crying.  But really, no one can cry for hours straight.

No one tells you about grief in the time of Facebook.  There is no such thing as private mourning. You will feel overwhelmed by others want to tell the world of their loss.  And it is their grief too, so you don’t stop them.  Or maybe you just don’t have the energy to fight that battle.

There was a lot I was unprepared for, but what I did expect, and what has happened, is my want for quiet.  To be still. To hold close my memories and sift through the thoughts in my head.  To run on autopilot, to just go through the motions.  To just be left to my own devices, however odd those might appear to the outside world.  To write.  And write.  In a way that leaches this out.

To not be ready to talk just yet.

First weekend of Bar study.  Yeesh.

Thursday it started with a late night call from my mom.  Grandpa.  Come soon.

We’ve known. And we’ve grown weary of knowing and being anxious and waiting and things looking up and then falling right back down.  It is still soon.  But as to how soon, no one knows.

 He is tired. We are tired.  I think mom is the most tired. It is a difficult place to be, to see someone you love and know they are just.. ready.  But he is.  I think of how scary it must be.  And how scared he must be.

Nana isn’t ready to let go.  He hangs on for her.

I hurtled into my first day of study on little sleep and my thoughts elsewhere.  To be honest, they go to my mom more than anyone at times like this.  She has been fighting for the both of them for so long and she is so tired.  And at this point, it is close enough that legal documents need to be consulted, signed, notarized. Over and over.

 Jen, do you know…?

No. I really don’t.  I wish I did.

And I cry and I tell him I will make him proud.  “We will have a lawyer in the family,” he says to me from his hospital bed.

I smile and think, I hope so..

More on actual Bar study soon..