When you come down with the flu, your doctor will tell you something like "drink plenty of fluids, get some rest- you'll feel better in a few days". When you are grieving, which can often feel as though it is a physical illness, no one tells you when you will start to feel better. There is no end date for grief. You may slowly heal over time, but there will be moments when the intense grief hits all over again.
I learn this lesson over and over again, and I learned it again this morning. Last night, I had a horrible dream. In the dream, my dad and I were walking down the hallway of a hospital (that just so happened to look like a replica of my high school). He was weak and I was holding him up. Eventually I called for help to transport him to a room, because I could not carry him any longer. In the room, I sat with him as he was dying. He kept asking for a specific nurse (Courtney, a coworker of mine who is NOT a nurse- dreams are weird). And me? I was telling everyone around me that this was NOT how he died the first time. Even in my dream, I acknowledged that saying that was weird, because you can't die twice. I said that he was supposed to be home. I said that he had not raised his hand up to the sky, like he did when he actually died. And I watched as the heart rate monitor slowed to a stop, and I told each person who walked in the room "he's gone".
When my dad actually died in real life, I was sitting with him- at home. My mom and I were both there. It was both beautiful and devastating. And the next few days were the deepest, most intense grief. I felt like I was just walking around as a person but that my brain was somewhere else. I was angry that the world kept spinning while mine was falling apart.
This morning, those exact feelings came back. I did not need to watch my dad die twice, even if once was in my dream. Once was hard enough. I once again felt like the world was not the same. I wanted to cancel my work meetings today, and tell people that my dad died- because that is how real it felt. Like I was reliving February 2018 all over again.
I have learned not to stuff my feelings down in a drawer. That doesn't help anyone. It only makes me suffer more, and in turn those around me suffer. I have learned to let my feelings go free. So I journaled what I was feeling- everything from I AM ANGRY to I want to be comforted. I ended a meeting with some colleagues and then immediately broke into tears. I yearned for someone besides Leo to be here to give me a hug and let me cry into their arms. And then I decided to come here, to this blog. To give you all a glimpse into this grief, and to let other people suffering to know you are not alone. And you don't have to stuff your feelings inside, either. Let them go. Feel them. Write them down. Tell someone you trust how you are feeling.
I also realized that I can both be grateful that my dad was trying to communicate with me while also feeling sad for how that communication came through. It wouldn't be my first, second, or thousandth choice for how I'd get to see him. But it happened, I can't take it back now, and I have learned from this experience.
Am I scared the dream may happen again? Yes. Will the next few days probably be a little rough? Yes. Will I take care of myself and reach out for support? YES.
I am not sure how to end this post, because, like grief, I could go on and on. Instead I will step back, ride this wave, and feel my feelings.
Комментарии