Last night I wrote this:
"Feeling like I have a whole new grasp of anxiety. Or depression? Not sure. Trying to put it aside. For the classes I must teach tomorrow. I can do that. I have done it a hundred times before. And I will a thousand more."
And I suck because I can't do it. I sent a substitute teacher in my place.
I am filled with anger.
The kind that makes you cry in spite of yourself.
I can't shake it.
It is oppressive. It sucks away my breath.
Men and women handle this kind grief differently.
Men jump off the emotional cliff.
Women go over it and over it and over it and over.....it comes around different sometimes. But it never goes away.
Just a few months after Elijah died, his EI teacher (Early Intervention, for those of you lucky enough to find out here first) hooked me up with a friend of hers who had lost a child and was active in a local bereavement group. This friend (who I still have never met in person) sent me a great tool; she suggested that I start off some poetry with the phrase, 'This grief is...'
Last night I pulled those files to look at them and see how my grief has transformed.
Here are just the first two:
#1
This grief is fucking gnawing at my bones
Slicing at my skin
Like razor sharp requests
Born from divinely unwanted radiance
To bury your dead
This grief is ashes that never warmed a heart or soul
In their flames
Burned at the precise expense of thirty eight dollars
Sign here Thank you
This grief is only transient as my child
Or not
For both live on as vivid
As my livid anger
For no peace can blanket this fire
This godforsaken grief is
Hell
#2
Slicing at my skin
Like razor sharp requests
Born from divinely unwanted radiance
To bury your dead
This grief is ashes that never warmed a heart or soul
In their flames
Burned at the precise expense of thirty eight dollars
Sign here Thank you
This grief is only transient as my child
Or not
For both live on as vivid
As my livid anger
For no peace can blanket this fire
This godforsaken grief is
Hell
#2
This grief is too much rage
For any one human to have to
Be
Immersed, NO, submerged into
This airless cage
This child is so undeserving
Of his mothers memory
What torch?
Worthy of this seething puss
In his mama’s anger unswerving
Angelic face, resistant to your grace
That came with life
Yours not mine
Only to hold in moments of time
and on a good day now in clouds ~ your face
This grief
is where I live
For any one human to have to
Be
Immersed, NO, submerged into
This airless cage
This child is so undeserving
Of his mothers memory
What torch?
Worthy of this seething puss
In his mama’s anger unswerving
Angelic face, resistant to your grace
That came with life
Yours not mine
Only to hold in moments of time
and on a good day now in clouds ~ your face
This grief
is where I live
Wow, I've come so fucking far. (and that? more sarcasm)
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