Blindsided

10:03 PM Edit This 18 Comments »
So, I didn't go looking for it. That's the important part, right?

I am looking for my syllabuses for my graduate classes. I need them for my application for my chemical dependency certification. I have two large bins that hold my business papers at the moment. I haven't looked at them for a long, long time. Probably before I moved here three years ago. I block a lot of those memories out, yanno?

I came across a printed email exchange between me and The Dead Guy, shortly after we met. He must have sent me flowers. And I remember those flowers. How beautiful they were. All daisies and wildflowers. I don't like roses and all those contrived fauna. Just wild things. And that's what it was. I wish I could find a picture of it for you, but that bouquet was perfect. So perfect.

Anyway. Here were some sappy emails. I laughed. I SO laughed. They were so gooey and lovey. I am SO not that girl today, they made me giggle. And I put them back in the folder they came from and kept looking. I NEED these papers, right? Then I found cards. The ones where he told me I was his soulmate. The ones where he said he never thought he'd meet a woman like me. The ones where he adamantly confessed that we were meant to be together forever.

And it made my face turn hot. It made my skin crawl. It made me tear up, but not cry. I'm not sure I'm capable of crying over it anymore. But I was not prepared for it. Not one bit. I used to go looking for the pain. I used to open the picture albums with a glass full of vodka, hoping to make it hurt just that much more so I had an excuse to die.

But I don't have that excuse anymore. I just felt sad. I just felt a bit of panic. Just feel... so very sad. And lonely. And I miss him. One more time, I miss him. It's been long time since I felt this bereft. My friend Brooke told me that nothing happens by mistake. And I want to mis-believe her this time. I was finally feeling happy about the season. I was finally ready to let the past hurts go and enjoy.

And maybe I still can enjoy, but tonight? I feel that punch in the gut and have to put a name on it. And I' m going to call it grief. Because it takes a myriad of forms. And tonight, it mysteriously appeared in a bin of business papers. And I'd like to put the lid back on it and forget that I ever saw it. But I can't. So I go to bed. Grieving once more. Wishing that it will be the last time, and knowing that it won't be.

18 comments:

Kelly Hogaboom said...

Oh, I'm sorry. That hurts.

It's worse this time of year. Not just because of your anniversaries, but because everyone thinks it's supposed to be this awesome time, for everyone. Phooey.

Ink Spiller said...

Very few people make me wish that fairy dust was real and that I knew how to use it. You're one of them.

I wish I could tell you it will get better but you'd know I was lying, right? Only the strong ones can get through what you have and then to have as much life and love in them as you have.

I think I will have to adopt you as the sister I never had. It's a bit creepy I know but you're inspirational and fabulous even on days when you don't feel great. Best of all you're so honest.

I always wanted a sis like that.

Can do mom said...

I'm sorry Kate.

My mother has been widowed twice. My dad (her second husband) died when I was 3 1/2 and she was only 35. She had to raise my sister (8) my brother (almost 2) and me all by herself. She never complained and did a wonderful job. I remember people complaining about their mothers as I was growing up and I thought they were crazy. I loved my mom (still do!) and wanted to be like her (still do!) She is a woman of strength and integrity.

She took the pain life handed her and used it to help others, going back to school later in life to become a grief counselor. She's retired now but helped a lot of people through the years.

I imagine you like that. Using your pain to help others. I'm praying for you; for strength to move beyond the low place you're at. I pray that the holidays will still be wonder-filled and special for you.

Meigan said...

I think if you looked up "grief" in the dictionary you'd see your story. You described the feeling to a "T".

Yesterday I looked up my Christmas cookie recipes & they are in the same e-folder as the eulogy I gave at my dad's funeral. I haven't opened it since the funeral but I did yesterday & opened something else right along with it.

I think that is kind of the true meaning of Christmas - not to get too religious but when you realize why we celebrate this birth it's because of his death. Christmas is not all packages on bows, but it certainly IS about love. Love from this world & the next.

You're doing great. This is just a part of it.

clearness said...

This makes me happy that I'm not a big saver of things and that I have a terrible memory. (Of course that all has a downside too)

Sue Ellen Mishkey said...

I want to comment, but I don't cause I don't know what to say.

What can you say when your soulmate is gone? Nothing. You just cry a little on the inside for how much it must hurt the person.

I'm sorry. Seriously.

Sarita said...

I don't know what to say, except that I'm thinking about you, and hoping that you might get back a little bit of the excitement & joy of this season soon.

Jeff D'Antonio said...

There seems to be a lot of that going around this week. Getting blindsided by grief, I mean.

I'm so sorry, Kate. I'd give you a hug if I could.

J

Bob said...

I may be being insensitive here, but why do you keep this memorabilia mixed in with other "business" papers? Are you deliberately setting yourself up? I would put these memories of the dead guy in a separate box, one where the only time you would ever see them would be when you mean to.

I am predicting this won't ruin the season for you. Each time you go through this, I bet it takes less time to get over it. It's all part of the process.

But it should be on your terms, not your subconsciousness'.

Take care.

Kate said...

Bob, you're not being insensitive, you're pointing out a good plan. One that I just haven't had the wherewithall to put into action. I haven't opened these boxes in at least four years. And I had no idea that stuff was in there. Just like I have no idea where these papers are. Still! And since it took me by such surprise, I just shut the box back up and gave it a rest until a better day when I know what I'm going to see when I open it and then sort it. That's all. It's kind of like my photo albums. I know which ones to look at at what times in my life. I need to do the same with these papers. Just on a different day.

Kristen said...

Aw, crap. I'm sorry you came across that stuff. That's a kick in the crotch for ya.

Cello Mama said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Cello Mama said...

I think grief is a good name for it. I have lost grandparents, but they were old, they had lived long lives. It was easier to accept. Now my miscarriage is teaching me grief. Real, deep, in-my-soul grief that comes back at me in ways I never seem to expect. For someone I never even met.

The first couple of months I buried that grief. I acted like everything was "back to normal", but then the panic/anxiety started. So I am learning to listen to my grief and let it have a voice, or it will eat me from the inside.

So I think it's good you felt what you needed to feel without getting totally thrown off-kilter. That's progress.

kilax said...

I think you'll have these moments forever... and they may or may not sneak up on you like this. What matters is how you handled it, by seeing it at face value, and going to bed. Hope your heart feels better today!

Jen said...

Oh how I know that sad feeling when it creeps up on us by "accident" like that. But, like you say, at least this time you didn't go looking for it, it just happened. Hugs.

KT said...

I'm sorry you had to go through it, but think of the strides that you have made since you last saw that stuff. Instead of turning to vodka you went to bed. And hopefully today is a better day.

The Good Cook said...

Kate,
I know about that Grief Monster that sneaks up on you when you least expected. I was doing fine and then today? Well... let's just say the Monster brought me to my knees. Literally. So here I am, in the season of joy and hope and I can't stop crying. When I get a break from the tears I am on my knees in front of the porcelain throne heaving my guts out.
I swear I a am vomiting all the bile of grief. (sorry to be graphic)...
I just have to wait for the Monster to leave. And wait for it to come back. It seems to get in even when I lock the doors.

TGC

Lemon Gloria said...

Yah, grief will sucker punch you when you least expect it. I have all my papers all jumbled together. And when I come across things, sometimes I can resist reading or looking at pictures, and sometimes I can't. I do think it's huge that you didn't go looking for it. Sometimes it just finds you. Hugs to you, lovely Kate.