I'm feeling a whine coming on. I'm not sure where it's coming from. So maybe I should put my current life into context...
We just bought a house. You can see the pictures and such here: http://www.krumlovgirl.blogspot.com/2012/08/we-bought-house.html
So that was a big step.
An even bigger step is the fact that we emptied 5 of my mom's storage units into our barn so that we could sort through the stuff and downsize. That's right, I said 5. One of them had not been opened since 1989. Yep. You read that date right. At that time, the bulk of my childhood toys and clothing were placed in the storage unit, never to be seen again. I was 10.
Sorting through this stuff has been physically and emotionally exhaustive. I have been at it sometimes as long as 7 hours a day. And the temperature here is about 100 with 100% humidity. So it's hot. Last weekend, we had a yardsale. We sorted through about 1/4 of the stuff. Of course, we have to go through the rest of it, sort it, and have another (bigger) sale before we move into the new house.
Some of the items I am sorting through are Toby's. It was sad to see his little monkey plate and cup (never opened) go home with someone I didn't know. Some things were my grandmother's. She lived with us and took care of me until she died when I was 7. She died at home and it was a shock and very traumatic. One of the items that we found was the gown she was wearing when she died, still in the bag from the funeral home that they had sent back to us.
Then, there are the things that make me angry. For almost a year I witnessed cruelty and sexual molestation from someone who should have been trustworthy. (Let's be clear-I wasn't the one being abused-it just happened in front of me. Repeatedly.) I came across a box bearing lots of items that this person had written on. I started going through them, but couldn't. Mom, thinking they might be of sentimental value to her, offered to go through them. No. I wanted to take a butcher knife to them and then throw them in a fire with the box of fireworks I found. You know that scene in FORREST GUMP where Forrest says, "Sometimes, there's just not enough rocks?" Thats the way I felt about the stuff.
It has been like reliving my entire life, one box at a time. And the sheer volume of stuff cannot be minimized. I would compare it to certain telvision shows on A&E and TLC, but that might imply junk when, in fact, many of these items are very valuable. (A lot of my toys are selling on Ebay right now for hundreds of dollars.)
So I don't know if it's because of what's going on in terms of the storage stuff or the house buying or the brain surgery or what but I just feel out of sorts.
I am going to say this, and it's not going to be pretty, but here it is...
I don't think about Toby every day. I don't cry over him every day. Iris does not remind me of him in the least. There are days when I feel like he belonged to another life-maybe one that wasn't even mine.
I can still feel anger, but it's at weird things. Only one person remember Toby's birthday. Only one. A fellow SIDS parent. Not any of my friends or family. Not even Toby's grandparents. (Okay, you know my mom did, of course.)
Last year, not a single person remembered the anniversary of his 1 year death. Not one person, until I said something about it later on Facebook. If they remembered it, they didn't say anything to me. So maybe that's not a fair statement.
Those things make me angry.
I don't feel the crushing grief I used to. I still get sad, I still cry sometimes, and I still feel like it's horribly unfair but none of these things impede my general ability to function like it did in the first 6 months following his death.
I don;t always identify with other parents who have lost their children. I want to, but sometimes I don't.
Maybe I have reached a new stage in my grief. Maybe i'm just tired. I don't know.
We just bought a house. You can see the pictures and such here: http://www.krumlovgirl.blogspot.com/2012/08/we-bought-house.html
So that was a big step.
An even bigger step is the fact that we emptied 5 of my mom's storage units into our barn so that we could sort through the stuff and downsize. That's right, I said 5. One of them had not been opened since 1989. Yep. You read that date right. At that time, the bulk of my childhood toys and clothing were placed in the storage unit, never to be seen again. I was 10.
Sorting through this stuff has been physically and emotionally exhaustive. I have been at it sometimes as long as 7 hours a day. And the temperature here is about 100 with 100% humidity. So it's hot. Last weekend, we had a yardsale. We sorted through about 1/4 of the stuff. Of course, we have to go through the rest of it, sort it, and have another (bigger) sale before we move into the new house.
Some of the items I am sorting through are Toby's. It was sad to see his little monkey plate and cup (never opened) go home with someone I didn't know. Some things were my grandmother's. She lived with us and took care of me until she died when I was 7. She died at home and it was a shock and very traumatic. One of the items that we found was the gown she was wearing when she died, still in the bag from the funeral home that they had sent back to us.
Then, there are the things that make me angry. For almost a year I witnessed cruelty and sexual molestation from someone who should have been trustworthy. (Let's be clear-I wasn't the one being abused-it just happened in front of me. Repeatedly.) I came across a box bearing lots of items that this person had written on. I started going through them, but couldn't. Mom, thinking they might be of sentimental value to her, offered to go through them. No. I wanted to take a butcher knife to them and then throw them in a fire with the box of fireworks I found. You know that scene in FORREST GUMP where Forrest says, "Sometimes, there's just not enough rocks?" Thats the way I felt about the stuff.
It has been like reliving my entire life, one box at a time. And the sheer volume of stuff cannot be minimized. I would compare it to certain telvision shows on A&E and TLC, but that might imply junk when, in fact, many of these items are very valuable. (A lot of my toys are selling on Ebay right now for hundreds of dollars.)
So I don't know if it's because of what's going on in terms of the storage stuff or the house buying or the brain surgery or what but I just feel out of sorts.
I am going to say this, and it's not going to be pretty, but here it is...
I don't think about Toby every day. I don't cry over him every day. Iris does not remind me of him in the least. There are days when I feel like he belonged to another life-maybe one that wasn't even mine.
I can still feel anger, but it's at weird things. Only one person remember Toby's birthday. Only one. A fellow SIDS parent. Not any of my friends or family. Not even Toby's grandparents. (Okay, you know my mom did, of course.)
Last year, not a single person remembered the anniversary of his 1 year death. Not one person, until I said something about it later on Facebook. If they remembered it, they didn't say anything to me. So maybe that's not a fair statement.
Those things make me angry.
I don't feel the crushing grief I used to. I still get sad, I still cry sometimes, and I still feel like it's horribly unfair but none of these things impede my general ability to function like it did in the first 6 months following his death.
I don;t always identify with other parents who have lost their children. I want to, but sometimes I don't.
Maybe I have reached a new stage in my grief. Maybe i'm just tired. I don't know.
1 comment:
Rebecca- I wouldn't want to go through one storage unit of my own sh*t if I were perfectly healthy and it was breezy outside. I wouldn't even want to do it if it was full of awesome sh*t that didn't trigger one thing at all. I can't imagine going throough multiple storage units after brain surgery in the heat. When all of your moving and selling is done, PLEASE lie down and sleep for as many hours as possible.
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