I Hope I’m Not in Charge of the Eulogy

It’s happened before, that feeling of impending demise. A lost feeling. The need to run, or fight, or scream until the anxiety leaves. It’s been awhile. Last night I went to bed early but didn’t sleep. I tossed and turned. My stomach tied into knots and I tried to make them go away. The feeling wouldn’t leave. It just grew. I finally stopped fighting and accepted it. I fell asleep minutes before MyHusbands alarm sounded.

Looking back now, I think it started the night before last. That would explain yesterday’s weird post, yes? Though it wasn’t mine, there was a heartache last night. My mom called this morning. My Dad’s mom passed away. I never really knew her and that was as much my choice as hers. I’m fine with that.

The sadness I’m feeling right now is more for what could have been. Not what could have been for my kids, or my dad, or me. It’s what could have been for her. I look at the path of her life and I see the destruction cause by addiction and selfishness. I wonder when it went so wrong. I wonder why she stopped trying. I think she may have missed out on the best parts of life. Did she ever knew the joy of giving until you have nothing left, then somehow finding more. Did she ever love until others hearts were so full they had no choice but to give their love back? Did she ever wish so hard for another’s happiness that her own heart ached? I hope she did. I really need to believe that she did.

I look back and see how hard my dad worked to make our childhood better than his own. How he struggled to take care of us and make sure we were loved as he battled his own demons and addictions that at times almost buried him. He wasn’t perfect but he tried so hard. I’m sure she loved him, but I’m a mom now, and I can’t understand why she didn’t try harder. Maybe she just didn’t know how to give. I wonder if she ever knew how much she hurt him? I also wonder why she never appreciated the love my mom so willing gave him when he so desperately needed it. I guess some things are better left unknown.

Anyway, it’s been just over a year since I cleaned out her house and felt nothing. I still have her fathers’ trunk in my basement. It’s covered in a layer of dust. I haven’t opened it. I don’t know when or if I will. I do know that I feel something now. I feel sorry for her. And I feel like I need to go play with my kids.

I’ll be away for a few days. In the mean time, go love each other.