The Beginning: Grief is fucking weird.

This poor blog.  It's been deleted and restarted over and over.  Ah, well.  It's mostly for me anyway, right?

I recently lost my mother.  Which makes it sound like she's missing, or that I misplaced her, when in fact she is simply gone.  She had primary progressive multiple sclerosis, and by the end she had been bed bound for years.  Muscle contracture, spasms, all manner of awfulness.  I helped to take care of her for thirteen years.  I would move out, then move back in.  I'm still here at the moment.

August 29, 2016 is when it happened.  Mom had been in hospice care at home for a little over a year.  The entire family was able to be here, which was good.  My sister and her husband came in on emergency leave from Japan. My other sisters and their significant others were here.  One of mom's sisters was here, and the other came down shortly after.  I have odd memories from that day.  I remember watching her, and having to time her respirations and figure out the dosage of morphine she needed.  I remember that Nicole went in to do the same, and called out for us to call the nurses right away.  I remember walking in and seeing her lying there, so still.  Mom had not been truly still in years.  I remember thinking how peaceful she looked, and kissing her.  My next memory is of my Aunt making me leave the house.  I know I called the hospice nurses, but I don't remember it.  I know they showed up to take care of Mom, but I don't remember seeing them.  After that it was madness about funeral preparations.  Was there going to be a viewing?  I was absolutely vehement about the fact that there would NOT be a viewing.  Were we going to wait to have it?  Why?  We had been watching her slowly waste away for years.  Why would we wait?

I remember having to buy clothes for the funeral and refusing to wear black.  Mom hated the fact that I wore black all the time.  I bought a deep teal blouse, and dark burgundy pants.  It worked.  I looked like a grown up.  My family and I supported each other, I had amazing friends that supported me.

I guess I expected it to be different.  When you spend so long taking care of someone that you know is going to die, you think you're ready.  You've talked to the hospice nurses, you've done the research.  You know exactly what's happening to her body, what each facial expression means, how to handle little things that come up.  You can change her, help bathe her, feed her, sit with her, and just talk to her about your day - because the illness has defined everything about her life, and to an extent it has also defined yours.  I had been a caretaker for so long, that if I wasn't THAT - then what and who the hell was I?

I didn't really process everything while family was here.  I'm a solitary creature.  I have to ponder things, I'm guilty of overthinking things, and I need to be alone from time to time.  I'm not good with strong emotions - not because I don't have them - but because they are too much typically.  So when the shock wore off, I broke a little bit.  I felt guilty.  I was angry.  I was lost.  I kept a lot of it in - that's what I do - and then just kind of explode on myself and whoever happens to be nearby.

I'm rambling, I know.  I'd apologize, but I think I need this.

I was so worried about my father.  I'm not exaggerating when I say that my parents are the example I always had for a relationship.  Oh they had issues, sometimes major ones, but they truly deeply loved each other.  Their 38th wedding anniversary would have been September 16, 2016. Then I became paranoid that he wouldn't come home, and I would lose them both.

I mean, frankly, I went a little crazy for a minute.

I had to get my shit together though, I had things that I needed to do.  I was doing the flowers for two weddings in October.  That was something I could focus on, it was something to get me through.  Well, that and a handful of amazing people who let me cry on their shoulders from time to time.  So I did.  I buckled down.  But guess what?  That's over.

I figured I was OK.  In my thoughts regarding mom's death prior, I always just kind of bounced back.

I'm discovering that grief is fucking weird.  I'm OK for a couple weeks, then bam!  I have a meltdown in my car about Halloween of all things.  It's my favorite holiday.  FAVORITE.  I have plans to go to a concert, then possibly a party.  Yet all I could think was, "You're going to go out and party and your mother is dead".  Bring on the tears.  Because really, what kind of horrible fucking human being can work two weddings, have a blast at them because you love the people involved, then go out and party stupidly when YOUR MOTHER IS DEAD.  That was my brain.  On repeat.

I had a lovely conversation with a friend, and logic slowly returned.  I'm still a little down, but not as bad as I was.  I think I'm going to go to that concert, because Mom would have said, "Don't be dumb, Danielle!  Go have fun!".  I'll probably pass on the party because frankly, there are only a handful of people I can handle right now.  I just keep having to remind myself that it's OK.

I thought it would be different.  Instead grief is an emotional fucking ninja that just pops up whenever it feels like it.  I have no control over it.  I can't anticipate it.  It's frustrating, and makes me feel weak.  Calm down, I know I'm really not - but that's how it makes me feel.  I'm golden one moment - a godsdamned wreck the next.

I know I'll still struggle.  I'm basically having to redefine myself at the age of 37.  I don't have to be home anymore, I don't have to stay close to home anymore.  I don't have to worry about keeping bleach around to help kill the smell of urine.  I don't have to only cook mushy foods.  I don't have to constantly be prepared for a phone call saying something is wrong.  I have this bizarre freedom that honestly freaks me the fuck out.  And as weird as it sounds, I miss those things.

I'm not one to really talk about super personal stuff on such an open forum.  I thought this might help.  Might help me - and might help some other poor soul who has no idea what's coming for them.  I shamelessly stole the idea from a brave and beautiful friend who talked about her own grief.

So that's it.  The beginning.  From here on out, everything will be AMD (after mom died).  I'm going to do my best to keep up here.  Maybe talk about the new me that has to come out now.  We'll see.  It's a start.