Uncomfortably numb
I've spent the last few days traveling back and forth between work, Martha's mom's house, and ours, getting home around midnight, getting a few neglected chores done, and falling straight into bed afterwards. Tomorrow we're off to Beckley. We're approaching the unavoidable event we're really not looking forward to — one of life's big transition points. This is more hers than it is mine, and I know this — so I'm doing what I can to be supportive. I really should be sleeping now, but at the moment I can't.
I'm going to have to get used to calling it Martha's mom's house and not Martha's parents' house. It doesn't sound right, and I wonder if it ever will.
I've spent lots of time with the family. There's a certain comfort in the togetherness — just being in the house with each other, sharing memories and tears. There's also a certain poignancy to it, as there is so much of him in that house and probably always will be. It is truly bittersweet. At the same time, though, we have all drawn closer to each other. I think this will be important given what the next couple of days will bring us.
At this moment there's a numbness about me. I've been through waves of sadness, shed tears along with everyone else, and have at times been the shoulder while at others been the leaner. It's a group effort, I guess. I can't imagine what it would be like to go through this alone. Nor can I imagine what it will be like tomorrow when we begin our final goodbyes.
I strongly suspect this is the eye of the hurricane. Although it's good to be on an even keel right now, it also means the storm will soon restart in earnest. So any sense of calm I may be able to gain from this numbness is, at best, either temporary or false.
Comments on "Uncomfortably numb":
Being there for one another is the best thing you can do. It takes time, and things will never be the same, but it will be better eventually. Dad's been gone almost 2 years now, and I still refer to Dad's chair, Dad's socket set, and so on. After Dad's funeral, we all sat around and swapped stories, laughed and cried. Hang in there.
# Posted by Steve Beckner on July 31, 2009 @ 09:24:23 EDT.
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On Goodbye, Blossom, Martha said: We can still dress up and go to Laury's. Or Aubrey's. Or even Soho's, if/when I get over being mad.