but I am glad you did get to see her.
Me too. I wasn't ready for that trip, really. But it was necessary.
I was thinking of Jacqueline's horrible odyssey to see her father before he died, when she was just out of COVID quarantine herself.
How hard it was (all of the public transportation was extremely limited) to even get there (a 40 minute trip took three hours), but how it gave him a moment of grace to pass.
Sometimes just showing up is so important for your whole family.
Kills me a little to know it's the one year anniversary of her getting her desk. She didn't even get a year of it to write. She wanted so much more.
David, that is too fucking much. I'm so sorry.
That's no fair, David. Fucking universe. I'm glad you got to see your sister, though. I'm so sorry.
I am sorry, David. My condolences.
I wish there was a way to bubble wrap you and yours from any death or illness or terrible things happening for a while. A decade. Five years. A year. This is all too much.
Instead of that bubble wrap, I'm sending my love. You are in my thoughts. May you get a fucking break. I am so sorry.
Oh, David, I'm so sorry for your loss.
And I'm sorry for the oh-so-difficult day you've had, taking more difficult steps in that oh-so-difficult road, and for Matilda having to fo through it (even if it's alongside you, so at least she gets your support). I'm just so sorry.
I wish I had more words to add, good words.
Well, no, I wish for other things, impossible things, but I know they are impossible, and I have to pretend that I'm an adult, so I won't write out loud the fairy-tales wishes that I know can't come true.
And I can't even wish for you to feel better, not now, not while you're still going through all of it, because all you've been through, especially during the last few weeks, but actually for almost ten months now, is just the kind of things that make you feel the opposite of "better".
But this post is not about me and what I'm confused about wishing, so I'll stop now. Take care.
(This goes to all of you - I've been trying to play catch-up, and I'm still in the "been trying" phase of it, but my not-posting is not not-being-here. This lurker supports you in, well, not even e-mail, or anything that happens outside of her own head, but still.)
Sometimes I think that we should go to therapy when nothing is wrong, so that the therapist has a baseline for who you are and how you cope. Most of us go when we are at our wit's end and don't show our real/best selves.
I didn't go to therapy after I lost my dad. I wondered if I should, but decided I was okay. When my mother told my brother that she thought I wasn't processing my grief (which she never saw because she always had to be the most upset person in the room, so I didn't get to grieve around or with her), I suggested that my brother tell her that I was scared to go to therapy by myself and wanted to go as a family. My mother DEFINITELY needed/s therapy and I thought that it was a sneaky way to get her there, and it couldn't hurt for me. Of course, since she was trying to start shit with my brother by implying to my brother that I wasn't sad about losing my father, she dropped her concern very quickly.
