◦ Go back in the store and buy shit you don’t need to distract yourself
◦ Spend too long trying to find a valid reason to do thing 1
◦ Instead decide to go inside use the bathroom and/or splash your face with water
◦ Pace awkwardly around your car because standing is even more awkward
◦ Mentally list everyone you can think of in the vicinity, as well as the probability they’re around and will keep you company
◦ maybe call one
◦ Feel a bit silly about the call (of you got that far).
◦ Lean awkwardly against your car and hope that you’re the only person shitty enough to assume someone leaning on their car in a Walmart parking lot might be some kinda junkie/drug dealer/other miscellaneous miscreant
◦ Collect shopping carts in the hopes that people who are sitting inside their cars (lucky assholes) won’t notice you hanging out in a parking lot (and avoiding previous scenario)
◦ Endlessly refresh the AAA website to see the ETA
◦ Make a list of what to do when you’re stuck waiting for AAA
◦ Look for more birds
◦ Start to regret not eating that sandwich earlier
◦ Grow concerned as your phone flashes the “low battery” message.
◦ Vacillate between “looking on the bright side” (AKA it could always be worse) and being annoyed that you’re even IN a situation where you’re imagining worst case scenarios to feel better
◦ Think about zombies
◦ Make small talk with the kind older lady who asks if you need anything
◦ Be glad you impulse-bought a AAA membership last month for the free maps
◦ Watch somebody do their hair standing outside their car (hairspray & all) by looking at their reflection in their rear view mirror
◦ Realize they probably did that because it’d suck to be in a car filled with hair spray fumes
◦ Wonder why they’re taking so much care with their hair before entering Walmart
◦ Notice the storm clouds off in the distance aren’t quite so distant anymore…
◦ Make a mental note to start keeping a small notebook on your person for future updates
◦ Flag down the AAA truck with the light weight plaid you have tied a
◦ Thank Raziel (who was awesome) and congratulate yourself. You’ve survived a very minor 1st world inconvenience. (which isn’t always quite as easy as it sounds.)
I cried when I realized what came next on the kitchen calendar. I don’t mean I shed a quiet tear in memoriam, what I mean is I crumpled on the kitchen floor sobbing so hard I lost breath, all because I didn’t want what came next.
July is the start of the death season, the time one year ago when I lost both my parents in quick succession.
On July 23rd, 2020 I received a phone call. It was my aunt, who rarely ever calls me.I knew it wouldn’t be good news or a casual chat. I knew someone was hurt, bad.
“Mum’s gone, Jacquelyn.”
“What do you mean she’s gone?”
“Momma’s dead, she killed herself”
Cue me trying to logic my way out of this, me rationalizing that she might not be dead. That her friend, who found her lifeless body lying in her bed, could be mistaken. That we had to wait for the paramedics, for the professionals. That this wouldn’t have been the first false alarm….
Except it wasn’t false.
She was dead. She had overdosed on prescriptions and slit her wrists. I remember going to pack up her apartment and sitting on her bedroom floor, staring at her bed. When my cousin tried to tear me away I wouldn’t leave, her brother understood something I couldn’t have explained. He walked her out of the room and stood stoically behind me as I stared at her blood soaked pillow cases.
“You want a minute?” He asked . I don’t recall if I just nodded, or if I managed words, but I do remember sitting alone on her floor. I think I was trying to make myself feel something, anything. Trying to soak up the reality of this impossible situation.
My mom killed herself and I needed to see that proof.
I needed evidence, and in the months that followed I was obsessed with getting the truth. I would call the detective who left me his card, asking again and again for whatever evidence she’d left behind. Her friend mentioned a note, did they have it? Could i see it? What about her cell phone, was there anything relevant on there?
Eventually I got the cell phone, the first and only smartphone she’d ever owned. On it were worried voicemails from a woman I don’t know, asking if she’s ok. The last one was from October…after that they stopped. Her mailbox was full.
I never saw the note.
Along with the search for answers, for concrete evidence, there was anger. I couldn’t (and still struggle) to understand how she could give up her life while my father was fighting so hard to stay…
How could she leave me? Why did she give up? We hadn’t spoken in almost a year, but I’d sent her a letter. I wanted to try to have a functional relationship, maybe we could be penpals at first? I found the letter in her mailbox. She decided for me, for us, that we could never make it right.
Boy howdy did that piss me right off.
By taking the most drastic of measures she ended any hope of reconciling, of developing a stronger and healthier relationship with me. She made a choice for both of us, and I hated her for it.
I’m sure I will again, but not right now.
For the past two weeks or so this experience, the whole ‘grieving’ thing, has shifted for me. The dread of the first anniversary of her death has all but extinguised my anger, instead bringing all the guilt and sorrow to the surface.
This wasn’t her first tango with death, she’d had many attempts over the years stretching as far back as I can remember.
The only difference this time is I wasn’t there.
I wasn’t there to see the signs. To encourage her to get help. To force her in the car and drive her to the hospital myself, to childlock the doors when she tried to jump out on the freeway.
Logically I know that if a person is determined enough there is no stopping them, but I still feel guilty. I feel abandoned, and alone in a way I can’t possibly describe. While I believe that grief is isolating for everyone, since we all share a unique bond with the deceased, I feel especially fucked. Her family, besides one brother, has all but disappeared over the past year. Besides I don’t really know any of her friends, and I’ve only myself to blame for that.
I’ve arranged to have a picnic next week in her name, I reserved a bunch of tables and invited people on Facebook. I called the one friend of hers I do know, she said she’d take off the day and come by. That she’d let others know.
I’m doing this in the hopes that other people can share their good memories of my Mom, because mine are all tainted. I’d like to have something positive to hold onto, and I need help finding it.
I had a Disney princess moment when I went to check-out the place I reserved. This dude was ADAMANT that I pay attention to him, he even sniffed my hand.
I’ve been reading a lot about stoicism, this philosophy where (in a nutshell) you on increasing ‘positive’ emotions and minimizing the negative ones. Basically use your energy on the good stuff and avoid getting caught up in the anger, misery, pain of the shitty shit that comes with life.
It’s a great idea, and honestly sounds a lot like the kind of advice my Dad would give. In some ways it’s easy to think of a bad attitude or negative emotion like a kind of virus. It’s unwanted, often unexpected, and contagious. If left unchecked it can quickly overwhelm your system.
Good news is that, just like a virus, there’s something to be be done about it. We can try to prevent it showing up at all by practicing good habits. We can work to notice the symptoms early on, catch those errant thoughts before they develop into something worse. And, like with any contagion, we can avoid those we know are infected, thereby minimizing our risk of catching “Bad Mood By Proxy”.
Since so much of what I’ve written here is about loss and pain and the suck that is grieving you might be wondering “How can this possibly apply to Grief? How can you remedy this forever ache that can’t be fixed?”.
That’s what I’m trying to figure out myself, and though I’m not sure exactly how to make it happen I know it’s worth trying. I know I can experience the pain when it comes, but I can also recognize and embrace all the good times as well.
Yes I’m sure I’ll still breakdown at the drop of a hat, or get angry about how things played out. How unfair and unjust life can be, how could this have happened, why me….etc etc. But The Plan is to see these thoughts & recognize them for what they are before they turn into a pity-party spiral of sadness.
To refocus myself, staying present but still acknowledging the pain.
Resiliently Ridiculous 