I have to get some of this outside me. The heaviness weighs upon my chest and so, I write. I don’t need sympathy or anyone to “fix” this. I just need the release writing gives me.
Grief is painful, yes. It is also irritating beyond belief, especially when dealing with seemingly thousands of details like returning his cell phone; signing innumerable forms; handling financials aspects; and so much more. It is absolutely draining. I go from wanting to weep to wanting to scream my frustrations into the void. Grief is walking the aisles of the grocery store and trying to swallow the lump in my throat when seeing his favorite foods. Grief is people awkwardly avoiding you because they don’t know what to say. It’s not contagious people, I swear it isn’t. Grief is a torrential rain of feelings. Most of all grief is missing a loved one so much that you think you might die from the pain of it. Grief is my phone never stopping with text messages and calls, until after the funeral when the phone is completely silent. “Let me know if you need anything” was said so often by pretty much everyone I know. But I don’t know what I need, except I need the pain to stop. It won’t. I know this. Grief is a road I must walk alone. I am sad. I am angry. But most of all I am incredibly lonesome. I need to talk but while misery loves company, company definitely does not like misery. Everyone deals with grief in their own way. For me, I need to talk about Randy. Please let me.