I’m lying on the floor staring at the ceiling fan. My jaw begins to clench. My body begins to stiffen. Tears begin to stream down my cheeks. It’s beginning to settle into my bones. The reason I am even going on the 6 month trip with my mom is because my dad is dead. My. Dad. Is. Dead. When the fuck did that happen?
I should have known. I have been irritable and tired all day- like, took 2 pretty long naps today tired. I started getting choked up when I was packing up my cat to bring her to her temporary new home today. Yes, I will miss her, but more so it was just one more checked item on the list making this more real.
My husband is trying to be close to me. Which makes sense- especially because we are going to be apart for these next 6 months, but his touch is sending my grief into overdrive. I can’t take it. More tears. I feel bad too- which causes even more tears. I want to want to be close to him in this moment, but it feels impossible. My body wants to explode, my mind is racing, my heart feels closed. So he’s just sitting with me. It’s about all I can handle.
I sit up. My body is heavy. I feel as blank as the naked wall that I am staring at. Suddenly, I have this voracious need to get these words out of my head and put them somewhere else. So here they are- in all their raw glory.
It’s my last night in my home. Tomorrow I make way over to my brother’s place until my mom and I hit the road. Sure, there is excitement. And yes, I know how proud my dad would be of me and what we are doing. But in this moment I need to grieve. I need my tears to temporarily wash away this heaviness that sits on my heart. In THIS moment, I need to only exist in the dark corner of my empty apartment.
And tomorrow? Who knows? It’s a new day.