Welp. I found the place where Matilda lost her shit.
When they came to take the body.
“I don’t want them to take her!”
“I don’t want to leave! I don’t want to leave!”
“It’s not fair! I don’t want them to take her!”
Sobbing. Sobbing. Sobbing the whole time.
Oh my heart. Yeah, that’s…yeah.
Oh, poor sweet Matilda. I hate like hell that she has to go through this. It's so fucking unfair.
Oh Matilda. My heart aches for her.
Oh god, my heart just breaks for her. Poor thing. And for you, having to help guide her through it. It's too much.
David, that is heartbreaking.
Oh, David. Oh, Matilda. Nothing about it is fair.
Relieved and heartbroken needs a word of its own, I think.
So much, yes.
And for you, having to help guide her through it. It's too much.
My MiL had her own little feral freakout filled with fury and repression and crushing implosion.
I told her not to watch, but she came out and did and it wasn't a good thing for her to do. But she couldn't stop herself. Like Matilda she was fairly ready to claw her way through the hearse to get to her beloved.
When they came to take the body.
Just before I moved to Portland, my grandma passed. Watching my step-mom lose her shit with grief was the hardest thing I've ever been through.
When my Dad was dying, I knew that was something I needed to keep private. I ran outside after he died just to have a few moments for myself.
Unlike Mom years later, we called for transport right after and it was so awful that I hadn't had time to process anything.
Matilda will perservive. People adapt no matter the pain. But I am heartbroken she has to endure this.
David, that’s so much for you to deal with. I’m sorry.