Processing VIII
The viewing is done. The older sibs were quite animate in viewing and speaking about their parents in the coffin. To my fuzzy senses, they appeared too happy to see their other grandparents and family to feel much about their inert parents in the funny looking beds. Alas, both parents suffered enough severe depression that they did look kinda like they were conducting business as usual. ES and his roomie sat equally inert in the back of the room. Perhaps the most horrific grief of this funeral is the uncertain feeling of not knowing which of my sons died first. I saw the breathing son moving around a bit, but he didnae look like he was living, at all. I cannae remember the last time I have seen him participating in life. We havenae spoken in quite a few years. His dialogue with Hubs remains active, but I suspect that is only because Hubs is still paying his bills. Dunno. . . Not mine to sort. . .
It was a good party with a good turn-out. I havenae actively participated in this town for around 7 years now, but it appears I am still quite connected here, like it or knot. Knotting. . . Sitting here in the early morning depression of the bachelor pad has my flight instincts roaring. Please don't let me get sucked back into the yaddahs of these middle aged child blahs. Being an old mother amongst middle aged cool kitties sucks Trump Ass. Please let me get back to my Toxic People Landfill now. These divine cool kitties are way too chill for my senses. I kinda wish I had checked into a motel rather than here, but here I am, marking twain again. Is it safe yet? Where are the hemlines this season?
Breathing. . .
Prayers in progress that the lively mixing of both branches of their family tree will be a gift the 3 orphans can cherish for life. Just praying. . . Letting the Gnarly Old Dickhead lead the dance.
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The thing piles here are mocking me. All 1875 square feet of them. Piano is my soul. The pains and sorrows of my life flow more naturally through a keyboard than anywhere else I have discovered. There is considerable room to argue that piano is my first language. Alas, my keyboard skills are most developed with the sorrow tones I donae speak piano much in between the great sorrows of my life.
The antique piano Hubs and I bought with our first windfall was blocked tight when we arrived yesterday. It is one of the cleaner thing piles in the bachelor pad, but still a thing pile. My sense of courtesy says I will need to repack it before we leave for the graveside service. I hope we donae need to come back here after the service. Just hoping. . . Letting the Gnarly Old Dickhead lead the dance.
The pain in my heart didnae reach the keyboard. The piece of the thing pile which mocked the loudest was the observation hive atop the piano. I bought it shortly after the Brazos River Valley disaster while I still had a modicum of faith that the beekeeping was a ? ? ? I donae believe I should work too hard to remember what ^it^ was all those years ago. The pertinent sense is that the observation hive marks where I gave up on sharing the dream. Comply or abstain. Pick one and make it work. Abstaining. . . I donae believe repurposing the dairy barn into a honey barn compromises the position. Remodeling medical clinics didnae make me a doctor, either.
The sons I am grieving werenae even aware of that body of yaddah blahs. Not my side, at least. I havenae attempted to speak my side of ^it^ outside miserable moments with Hubs and my therapy network. I have kept the yaddahs of those blahs on tight lockdown for the people who admire Hubs. I just the _____insert preferred stereotype here_____. At this moment, I would need to read my journals, et al to know my side of ^it^ and I amnae up for the research this morning.
In hopes of channeling my grief, I moved the observation hive. The hunt for a new spot for it revealed other proverbial snakes in the thing piles. Games I played with the GKs were the meanest. Seed packs from when I was harboring delusions of urban homesteads. Etcetera, etceteri, through the veils of sorrow. It be a complex weave.
Think I will go try again to channel my grief. Is the path clear enough to stumble to? Testing, one, two, three. . .
Glad the viewing's done, arfie. Another step taken. Your self awareness as you go is really commendable On to the next one now.
I imagine your observation about how the kids talked about their coffin-bound parents during the viewing is spot on. They're probably not feeling the loss quite yet. What stood out the most to me was when you wrote "Perhaps the most horrific grief of this funeral is the uncertain feeling of not knowing which of my sons died first." By that I take you to mean that physical death isn't the only way a person can die, that you have a son who is physically alive but not so in other ways. Again, your awareness is really keen to be so tuned in to that reality at a time like this. You've very much alive in every way in spite of all.
Letting Gnarly lead the dance sounds wise. Sending you prayers for finding your dance rhythm through the next step.
Your ability to move and function and process shows such an inner painful strength Arfie...the 'viewing', in my own book of pain was similar to older son's, in the back along with my Mother. What was apparent was my sisters kids, up front and center, their Mom sleeping and going to live up in Heaven from now on....they had the chance to say good night and goodbye, knowing the 'word' for where Mommy was going. You've given stability to your GK's so they too can say good night and goodbye. That the other GP were provided, by you and hubby, the means to attend and the Blessing of seeing the GK's too is so wonderful and healing.
I do hope somewhere you will love yourself for all the love you've been giving by your actions....they speak volumes....and that ES and you will have a different ? That perhaps, Any Type Of Healing In Anyway ???? will begin and continue.
Prayers for your Highest Good and All concerned (((((Hugs))))
My heart goes out to you as you deal with all the sorting at their place and the funeral. The grands are dealing with this in their own fashion. They do know they have many family members who love them. To feel you have lost both sons is an added burden for you. Your sorting will continue after this day is done. I have always found that once the busy is completed, the full reality arrives with so many memories. for me, decisions on the belongings never arose until the busy of the funeral, etcetera was completed. Hope it has helped you. Comforting hugs and prayers for all.