Possibly the First Time Brangelina Has Been Mentioned in a Treatise on Grief and Loss

Wow. So, um, who's cool? You guys are.

I didn't mean to post a big ol' "Hey, my mom's dead, plus I have to change my password" thing and then disappear for days while you all wrote such lovely things in the comments. I think about you all the time, I swear. It's just that right now, MOTH is working three nights and one weekend day each week, plus my full-time (and then some, lately) job, and...and...and...well, let's just say I don't know how Brangelina does it. (Grammar nerds: do it? Is "Brangelina" a plural noun?) (Humor nerds: would the Duggars have been a funnier reference?)

I started to reply in the comments, but it got so long, I just thought I'd write it here. Huge, weepy, embarrassingly effusive thank yous for all the kind words, thoughts, and hugs. Yes, yes, to those of you who mentioned writing about your own loss as a method of catharsis. And, of course, it was our own dear Elly Lou who (no relation to Cindy Lou Who) parsed it out so perfectly:

"I'm compelled to write about the cancer thing. Even though many people think I should just never speak of it again. But it was a huge momentous thing in my life that I think warrants documentation...if only so that I can purge it from my brain into a tangible record that I can file away somewhere safe...somewhere permanent...so I don't have to relive those moments over and over again for fear that some detail will be forgotten or trivialized. Then once it's out and safe and documented, it doesn't have to live in my head. Like waking up in the middle of the night to jot down a reminder to drop off the dry cleaning."

Yep. That's it, exactly. That's why I want to write it: not because I want to relive it, but because I worry that to forget the detail would be to trivialize what happened. And, while I don't want to relive the details, I don't want to forget them, either.

I think that what happens, at least for me, is that you tend to hang on to these awful moments, these stark flashes that can instantly take you back to a particular second, going through them again and again in your head. At first you do it because there is no choice, it's like your brain has to go through this loop to figure out that this is really what happened. And then it becomes almost comforting, in a weird way. Like, it helps explain why you feel so odd. You're walking through Target and everything is terribly normal, except that it feels like there's this invisible, thick film between you and that normalcy. You can participate in the rituals, the mundane exchanges with the salespeople, the pleasant surprise of a price slash for your favorite granola bars, and yet it's all weird and surreal and dream-like and you wouldn't be surprised at all if a bear walked out of housewares or if your 7th grade science teacher showed up with a test you hadn't studied for. And you need to relive those details to remind yourself that, oh, yeah, that really did happen, and that's why I'm like this. You need those little mini-blows to keep from getting hammered by the big picture, which is what happens when you do manage to forget for a while. (Also, those little details tend to be in the past, which make them easier to grapple with. It's perversely less distressful to remember how I used Mom's eyeshadow when getting ready for her funeral than to consider that she'll never meet her grandchildren.)

But then, after some time, you start integrating this New Reality into your life. It becomes part of you, for better or for worse. And you're ready not to be confronted with daily reminders of specific, sad moments. But letting those moments go doesn't feel right, either, because it's still a connection. It's still a part of you and your story. So those stories, those details, those moments can still exist somewhere, just not in your brain-box.

So I'm going to keep working on it. It helps to have a better sense of why I want to work on it, and it helps to know that y'all are out there with your own stories and willingness to share in mine. So many, many thanks to you guys.

What? I'm not crying. Shut up.



P.S. Homework! When do you blog? With my crazy job and MOTH picking up work and shifting nap times (curse you, DST!!) and the occasional desire to see a three-dimensional person outside my home, I'm finding myself feeling like I can't eke out the time that I'd like to write, to read and comment, etc. So you tell me: how do you balance your own writing and participating in the blogosphere with your job/kid/s.o./working on your velvet Elvis portraits? Am I just that lame? Is there, perhaps, a trick that I don't know? Or are you all just bending time to your very wills?