To the person un-grieved, this is grief, raw and uncut.
I am angry. At you. At the world. At the person who asks me how my day is. I should just invest in name tags that say, “Hello My Name is Maggie, Before you ask, I’m shitty.”
Again, I m angry. At me, mostly. The time I should have taken, but didn’t. The words I should have spoken, but left unsaid. The past that I can’t re-write or wash away. I am angry at my poor judgment. This is the emotion that has taken me most by surprise, I expected sadness and even sickness, but anger was just a quick thought that I never expected to blossom into a reality.
So where are you? I long to talk and debate politics and talk about how stupid Obama is or how much you loved a documentary. I wouldn’t even mind a talk about religion right now…When I lay down at night or as I’m driving my truck, you will be the saint I pray to…Saint Billy, Pray for us.
Wait, I am still angry at you! Why didn’t you get help when you KNEW shit was sour? I’m being selfish right now and grasping for anything to hold on to. If I let all of it go, I am afraid in some small way that I will be letting you go and with you all my memories, our memories.
All the to do’s, all the cool clothing I was purchasing, all the top of the line shit I was buying, everything that seemed so important just a few weeks ago, are now just ‘things’. Just things.
And I don’t know how to deal with this grief ( a word I now puke out of my mouth upon saying, so vile).
But here I am and you, you are there on the other side and suddenly death doesn’t seem so bad when I know I have you waiting on the other side for me. I’ll see you when I get there, could be 60 years, could be 20, could be less or more, who knows how the hands of time will sweep us. But I’ll be there and I’ll see you, as you used to say, “here, there, or in the air.”.