Here’s another strange thing about grief: it feels wrong to start feeling better. Like, really truly wrong. I think the problem is that it happens so slowly, almost imperceptibly, to the person grieving that by the time they recognized that it’s happening it feels sort of out of nowhere. It could be that you're so focused on how sad you have been that you forget to take notice of the small steps you’ve been making; you let those moments slip by and so you don’t even pat yourself on the back for it. And so then there is this guilt that builds up-you feel bad that you don’t really cry so much, or that you are actually enjoying things again, and you think to yourself, “How can I be feeling happy, there is so much sadness that took up residence in this battered heart, how can happiness have found any room in there?” And so that’s what I’ve been battling these days. I have been feeling pretty damn good, and it’s a bit of a relief, but there is also a heaping amount of confusion that goes along with that.
Like I said, it came on so gradual I don’t really think I noticed. I’m sure other people did, but if so they were guarded with their observations and didn’t share them with me; maybe because there is a certain amount of pressure I feel whenever someone points out that I’m doing well-like I’m unsure of how long I can keep going with it. But, little by little, I started doing more, I started laughing louder and the sound didn’t startle me, I started thinking about plans down the line.
My best friend is pregnant. Sean and I are so thrilled for her and her husband, like deep down in our core happy. A week or so ago we found out they are having a little boy and, God love her, she said, “I hope that’s ok!” because that’s the type of love and sensitivity she has shown us since we lost Jack. I almost died because this is about her and I said of course it's ok! And it was! There wasn’t even a tiny part of me that felt sad about that, which at the time I didn’t even really stop to think how big that was; that it didn’t crush me.
So I was feeling pretty guilty that I hadn’t sent them anything to congratulate them on all the excitement. Sean, Kennedy, and I went out this past weekend to buy somethings to send up to Boston and to put away for later. One of our last stops on our long day of errands was a baby clothes store and both Sean and the little lady had had it with shopping. As I looked through the racks and racks of adorable, tiny things Sean started getting impatient to which I quickly replied, “Would you just stop and let me enjoy doing this?” And I was. I was looking through clothes that were very similar, or even identical to the clothes still hanging in Jack’s closet, the ones I still can't bare to box up, and you’d think it would be heartbreaking-but it wasn’t. And that is when it hit me. Like. A. Ton. Of. Bricks.
I’m doing better.
I’m turning a corner.
Well, maybe peeking around it, but still, around the corner is in sight. And it feels damn good. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m cautious, what with Mother's Day coming up and all. But the weather is good, we’ve got a trip to North Carolina coming up next week and there is all kinds of good stuff coming up. And so, I’ve given myself permission to feel a little better, to not feel so guilty about it. They say that grief is the price you pay for love. I believe that. But I also believe, now, that feeling better is the reward you get for surviving. And there is nothing to feel guilty about that.
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