I’m afraid you’ll hear a lot of wound-licking and complaining from me in the coming month. The monster of sadness, lack of control, self-destructive behavior, survivor’s guilt, it’s all there, waiting for me in the cover of the hickory saplings just off of my deck. Ready to pounce.
As usual I’ve been dreading July. In my last post I said that, for me, the badness begins on June 30, the anniversary of the death of our friend Tom. But in the past days I’ve realized that it actually begins on June 27, the birthday of a dear friend who lost her life just about 18 months ago? No? Is it longer? Does keeping track really matter? Seems she was here yesterday. I was at her house, celebrating her birthday and ignoring my phone when Caroline drove Adam there to tell me that Tom had died. I can’t describe what ensued once I got home. It was primal and it was awful. And it was the beginning of a longstanding grief, as I well knew.
Tom’s funeral was a few days later, in a town about 90 minutes away. Adam collapsed three times in a room full of neurosurgeons. He hadn’t collapsed like that before. I knew it was the beginning of the end. Without Tom there, he was giving up.
I’m pretty sure that he and Tom had discussed the odds of their survival. Honestly, no bookie would have taken those odds. And once Tom was gone, it was only a short, 10-day trip for Adam to go to the hospital, never to come home.
I just don’t know what to do with myself. I don’t know what my kids are thinking and still hesitate to pin them down, wanting them to have their own emotions without my picking all around in them for my own comfort. I keep hoping that if they have something to say, they’ll say it. But I also know they don’t want to upset me anymore than I’m already upset. Kids: that’s not possible.
Is cryogenics up and running yet? Could I just freeze myself for the month of July? Would that even help? Because then there’s August, which brings Adam’s birthday on the 6th and the anniversary of his funeral on the 7th, and the remembrance of our lovely church secretary, Pamela, who died just days before Adam. In an effort not to be too self-centered, I’d also like to remember my sister’s in-laws who died on either side of Adam. Really? Who is supposed to be able to survive all this without adopting or reverting to bad behaviors?
Look out world. I’m just trying to survive.