I am tired.
I am tired of the screaming from my son. Right now anyone would think that I had cauterised a giant wound with a hot poker, rather than covering a blister with a bandaid. Sensory issues. Great.
And Amy, who is permanently exhausted, and sulky and also has this terrible cough, that isn’t so bad of a day time, but is keeping us all awake of a night.
Why does this year feel like all I’m doing is facing into the wind and refusing to walk backwards?
I will not give up. I will not give in.
It would have been my grandmother’s birthday today and grief is tough. Watching someone you love die is exhausting, when your brain won’t switch off and you get to relive the moments again and again in your dreams. Like deja vu, but different.
April was always Nan’s month, her birthday and Easter falling on the same weekend a lot of the time, Easter was her celebration. Now I get to create new traditions and dammit, I didn’t want new traditions. I liked the old ones perfectly fine.
Facebook keeps yelling at me and telling me it’s her birthday. I’ve been counting it down. Another year gone and yet, it’s not getting any easier.
We were five generations and cancer shattered that, the bastard motherfucking thing. Fuck cancer. Fuck it to the moon and back.
I am tired and grief is hard.
Really that’s all I’ve got to say today.
I hear this gets easier eventually. They’ve been telling me for 2 years now. I’m not convinced.
But hey, Isaac just fell asleep on the floor in front of the fire.
At least something is looking up.
Comments
29 responses to “I am tired”
Probably easier is the wrong word but you do adjust to that empty space eventually. Not forget, but a degree of acceptance will creep in and make it easier to live with.
Yay for Isaac falling asleep in front of the fire and I hope Amy feels better soon. The exposure to more germs is one of the hazards of school unfortunately ;-(
xox
I hope your day improves from here… No words can make you feel better on a day like this so sending a virtual {hug} instead.
Totally fuck cancer to the moon and back xxx
Cancer totally,completely sucks.
gentle hugs
I’ve been lucky to never lose anyone who was as especially close as you and your Nan were. I have no idea if it gets easier. I suspect it’s just that you are able to dull the ache a little bit more easily over time but that it never really hurts less.
I’m so sorry that you have so much on your plate at the moment.
xxx
Sweet heart, someone always has it worse than you do. You are lucky that you have so many wonderful memories with your grandmother. Both my grandparents died very early in my childhood, the only memories I have of them are when they were ill and dying. I hope you can fill her void with other wonderful events that
celebrate the life she lived.
Sleeping in front of the fire…sounds peaceful:)
hang in there sweet pea xx
Ugh those night time coughs are nasty. 🙁
I’m glad Isaac has fallen asleep for a while.
*Big Hugs*
Hooray for sleeping!!!
Rest can cure so much, can’t it? I hope some comes your way soon.
I also agree. Cancer is the most insidious of motherfuckers too.
((((HUGS))))
When it comes to grief two years is nothing. Grief is not measured in time. It will get easier, the pain does dull. All you can do is keep going.
I hope Amy’s cough gets better quickly.
I wish I had the words to soothe, but on days like your’s words are useless. All I can offer is that there will come a point where you will suddenly realise it doesn’t hurt quite so much. It may only be an infinitesimal lessening of the pain, but it will be a lessening nonetheless. And over time, those little changes add up and you realise you can face those anniversaries and finally breathe more freely. There are no time lines, no rules, but eventually, little by little it becomes more bearable. Sometimes you have to let yourself feel it, ride it out as unpleasant as it is. I really hope tomorrow is a better day for you. Big hugs.
thank you
love to you. life sux sometimes but it sure makes us appreciate the good times 🙂
Falling asleep in front of the fire sounds lovely.
I don’t think time makes it any easier. Grief still hits you in the guts and leaves you winded years and years later. I’m still very sorry for your loss.
It doesn’t get easier. It gets different. We change. The idea that grief goes away strikes me as silly as the idea that joy disappears with time.
‘they’ can go fuck themselves.
XX
((((hugs))))
Loads of them. xx
Grief is a soul-sucking life diminishing mofo that will take its own damn good time to leave, unfortunately.
xxx
Love to you. That photo is so amazing. I wish it could be easier.
I hope your day gets easier – kids starting school is hard on them energy wise, they assure me the first term is the worst. That is a lovely photo to have and treasure.
I don’t know if easier is the word, Veronica. I’m 8 years in, and I”ll be honest, that second year was a bitch. As was the 5th. It’s ever-changing. Part of you will learn to accept that that hole is there, that nothing can fill it. But that you can, from time to time, take a peek and pick out the wonderful bits and have them out for a while.
But it doesn’t ever go away. ANd I’ve decided that that’s ok. She was worth it. She was worth my grief, my tears, my pain. She was wonderful enough to deserve to be missed this much. It sounds like your grandmother was too.
That photo is exquisite – 5 generations is a wonderful thing.
Thank you. Yes, she was worth it.
I think the saying: it gets easier, means that there are going to be some days that the ache isn’t so prominent, and then there will be some days when it is. But on the days that it hurts more than anything…it will get easier. That not-so-hard day is just around the corner.
But I think that it’s like waves – sometimes they are hitting high and hard, sometimes they are rolling out….
Ah, yes grief and how it is meant to happen. Like there is a set of rules.
Counsellors I have visited say anything from 2-7 years before any deep grief wound is lessened.
And while you are grieving, there are other life issues to contend with, it’s not like the world stops for you.
Huge hugs V, I think the 2nd year can be just as hard, if not harder, because everyone tells you about the year of firsts you need to get through and we somehow tell ourselves or the expectation is that with the firsts out of the way, the seconds will be better.
Continue to honour your grandmother’s memory, even if that means tears and pain.
I thought I had commented here to you, perhaps there is a reason for that. Because words as Rusty Hoe says on days like this ……
Veronica, I can’t make it better but I can care so very much that in some way all the people that love you that are here help to fill a little the chasms of grief. Your grandmother was a very very special person.
I just lost my daughter to cancer, and yes, grief is exhausting. I am sorry about your garndmother. Sadly, it seems we always have someone to grieve, long for, miss. I found great comfort watching the movie Rabbit Hole — especially the passage about grief being like a brick in your pocket that you carry around. It’s true.