Ash Wednesday and Floodgates

I am catholic. Today I should be mass and receiving ashes. Instead I will be working. I feel guilty about it, but mostly because I’m relieved to not have to attend today. I am angry at whatever greater being there is for the pain and loss I’m feeling.

Today is the first day I have dealt with my Grandmothers terminal cancer or my Grandfathers terminal cancer. I’ve spent the last few hours crying and getting sick to my stomach. The old fashion diet of grief. I’m scared to lose them. I’m sad about what they’ll go through, and I’m stricken ill with the images of Grant’s cancer and the potential for two repeats of that experience.

I haven’t talked to my parents or anyone really about how upset this all makes me, I suppose because up until today I’ve been ignoring the issue of this with whatever I could. Shopping, work, school application, scholarships, anything, everything. Tragic events in my life always make me more productive.

I wish I had some sort of wisdom from the last go around of loss, but I don’t. Only partially healed wounds.

I thought about calling in, but the truth is I still have big bills to face, and being home all tonight and tomorrow with my sorrow seems more toxic than beneficial. It would be nice to spend some time with my parents, but I don’t know if I’m strong enough or ready to talk to them about this. I’ve been trying to be strong for them and focus on helping them all while still avoiding my own emotions.

It’s been one year and three months since Kyle died. Every month since then has held a new heartache and everyday a new addition to the mourning process. 

April will mark the year mark for Grant’s death and coming up on the 12 of feb. he would have been 19. It think of what he would’ve been doing. I think of his smile. I think of Kyle every time I think of Grant. I think of Kyle’s Rosy cheeks and how I saw him in my dreams for so long after. How I felt him so close after he’d died. I think of how he’d always whisper how I looked like my mom and act is though it were a big secret.

I think of my Grandmother and how only this September we were at the annual wine fest. How she danced and laughed. How I already miss her. How much this feels like last April.

I think of my Grandfather and how grateful he was I brought him the rubbing of his brothers grave in France.

I think of parents how much pain they will be in when they lose their parents.

I think of losing my parents.

Every day they leave my chest tightens. Will today be another dark tragic day. Will a better tomorrow every really come?

The vomit rises in my throat and my head pounds every time this thought process occurs, and it’s been on solid repeat all day.

I’m scared. I’m sad. I’m weak. I’m sick. I’m sorry.

My floodgates have opened. The process is long and exhausting, and nothing, not even my writing, eases the feeling.