Sad

Well, I did intend to get back to my past today, but I'm still just not feeling it. In fact, I am actually feeling so much, that telling my story of the past just isn't where my brain is. 

Before my brother's death, my emotions were already in an upheaval. At times, my home life can get strained with all the personalities residing here, to the point we can severely grate on each other. Truth is, we had been actively grating for the last few months, and in the midst of it, I knew Andy's time here was waning. I found myself wondering after each text or conversation if that might be our last. I jumped every time the phone rang and if his or Gail's name came up on my phone, I literally had to take a breath before answering. In hindsight, my emotions were already preparing me for the inevitable, even though I tried to carry on as if the reality simply weren't real. 

When Andy died, it unexpectedly shook me to my very core. The very thoughts and emotions that I thought I had tucked away or avoided, came rushing out and it felt like the biggest sucker punch I had ever had. I felt so off balance and maybe because he was the last of our original four (other than myself of course), losing him made me feel like an abandoned child. 

For days, my mind could not allow me the last view of my brother's face as he died; tired, worn out, and ready to move on from the pain and suffering he had felt in the last six years. The only face I could see in my mind's eye was the little boy that I grew up with. I saw the blonde hair, blue eyes, and sweet smile. I heard his voice laughing, joking, and talking to me like we used to as kids. I heard him singing to Rockin' The Paradise, and I saw him painting. I watched his 13-year-old self behind the wheel of a car on Greenwich as Berty and I sat back holding our breath and hoping he wouldn't drive us all into a fence, and I remembered the hug I got the first time I came home from college. Never before had there been such a hug. My brain simply wouldn't allow the current reality, only the best of the past. 

The day after Andy's passing, I found out that I was going to be a grandma again. My son's girlfriend had found out the day Andy died. I couldn't help but wonder if he had orchestrated this from his new home. Something so wonderful and so exciting though, I couldn't even get my head around. I sat dumbfounded and almost unable to comprehend the news. It was not the reaction they were hoping for and it certainly wasn't the reaction I would normally have given, but in the moment, it was all I had. And yes...I spent the next couple of days profusely apologizing for my lackluster reception of their amazing news. 

I went through the following days, the funeral included, in a fog. I felt and still do feel to a certain extent as if I'm in a dream that I will wake up from and that Andy and I will still be kids with our whole lives ahead of us. Then reality hits and I am all too aware that there will be no waking up from this one. 

In the course of all of this, my youngest son David, who has cerebral palsy and a multitude of other diagnoses, suddenly developed a lump that was hard as a rock on the back of his leg. A trip to the ER told us that he had a deep abscess which was drained while we were there, and we were sent home with a 21-day supply of antibiotics. By week's end, however, the abscess had filled back up and rehardened. We were back to the ER and once again, the abscess was opened and drained, this time to a much larger extent. 

Now back at home, I have to use my non-existent medical skills to keep the abscess, cleaned, changed, and free from infection which is no small fete as I live with two six-year-old walking petri dishes as well as three dogs who love nothing more than to lick David every chance they get. Add to this the stress that he was supposed to have surgery to replace his VNS which is a device that controls his seizures and its battery life has almost run out. He currently can't have the surgery until all the infection is gone from his body and we don't know exactly how this will affect his seizures if the battery runs out before he can have the surgery. Needless to say, my nerves are a raw mess with the impending possibility of causing a complete emotional implosion. 

It was on our second trip to the ER, that I found myself wondering why I wasn't handling all this medical stuff with David better. I usually do doctors, ERs, and hospitals without even batting an eye. Why was I not sleeping and spending most of my nights checking on David, walking the floor, and sitting around waiting for the other shoe to drop? Why did I have moments of feeling like I couldn't breathe and other moments where I was so incredibly angry that I had to go to my room and not talk to anyone for fear of exploding in a tirade with no real provocation? Why was my tongue just oozing with sarcasm (much more than usual) and why did I have to force myself into cooking, cleaning, and putting up Christmas decorations? Why? Why? Why? Then it hit me as I watched the surgical resident digging inside David's incision feeling around for the abscess and causing blood to flow onto his newish Spongebob pants. My stomach was churning (not because of the blood), my head was pounding and my emotions felt like they were currently residing in my ribs. I was sad. I was completely and undeniably sad. In fact, I was so sad, that my mind and body were reacting as if this sadness was their new permanent residence. I was in that deep cavernous emotional spot, where it felt like no matter what the days and weeks held, they were somehow going to err on the side of negativity and feed into this deepening abyss that the last few months and weeks had created. What's worse is, that this was not my first rodeo with the feeling of abject sadness where my body remained constantly rigid and ready for that other shoe to hit the ground and bounce over and over again. 

It was a little over 22 years ago when I had experienced this phenomenon for the first time and back then it had lasted several years. This was not just a passing emotional time for me. This was sadness and anger moving in bag and baggage to stay a while and all I could think was......Not today satan, or sadness or emotional wreckage, or whatever this is. Not this time. I have way too much in my world to just give in and give over my peace and serenity this time. It was at that moment that I emotionally slapped myself hard and pulled myself up by the bootstraps. If I knew nothing else, I knew that I was not honoring my brother by falling apart and I couldn't fix anything if I just let sadness, grief, and frustration consume me and pull me under.

So today I write all of this. Will anyone read it? Will anyone care? Does it even matter? Of course it does...to me, and by putting words to all of this, perhaps it will release some of this sadness and help me to move forward. 

I can't control others, not even the sometimes overwhelming individuals that reside with me, but I can control how I react to their words and behaviors and what I am willing to allow for myself. I can also look for ways to honor Andy. He was not an ostentatious person, so quiet acts are how I will proceed. As for David, he will always keep things interesting and keep me on my toes. That is just who he is and each time we are met with seizures, sepsis, kidney stones, and abscesses, it is just a reminder of how strong he is and how strong he has made me. It also makes me realize that with every one of life's speed bumps, David touches someone's life (whether it be a doctor, nurse, or fellow patient) and leaves a lasting mark that only he can leave. Nothing happens without purpose. Absolutely nothing. 

So once again, I have opened my personal wound and let it bleed out on paper. There is a certain amount of relief for me, and maybe, whoever reads this, will find something in all of this that touches a chord for them. 

No matter who you are, life is going to throw out some unexpected crap, that blindsides you and leaves you wondering....WTF? That is just life, but mixed in with all of the crap, there are also wonderful things like new grandbabies, beautiful grandchildren, memories of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed little boy, and the joy and laughter that a special young man brings to my life daily. 

Yes, I am still sad, but I am aware I am sad and this time, I will take that sadness and create something beautiful, that only such sadness can create. 

Until next time......