Well, shit. For months I’ve been complaining that in the aftermath of my father’s death, I haven’t been able to properly grieve. Now it seems that I can’t stop crying, over a variety of things… But they’re all tangential to dad’s death, not about losing him specifically.
I’ve lost count of how many things I’ve cried over in the last day alone. WTF.
I cried during and after a terrible dream that blended my childhood with my present. I fought back tears when my phone rang at work, and the alarm monitoring company told me that the alarm had been triggered at my father’s widow’s house and police were on the way to investigate. I sat at my desk in front of people at the office and quietly wiped away tears over a poorly written work email that I had just sent to some teammates. I cried in a taxi on the way home from a celebratory dinner with my husband, talking to Sal about the overwhelming combination of work and family and real estate and trustee responsibilities.
This morning I cried while washing dishes. What the actual fuck?
All of that was in the last 30 or so hours. Notice what’s missing? I’m upset about this, that, and damned near everything else, but at no time during that laundry list of weepy moments am I crying about my father having suffered and died from cancer, and me never being able to talk to or see him again.
All of these other issues are swirling around the subject of my dad dying, and the clusterfuck of an aftermath. But I still can’t grieve the loss of the man. I’m too busy fighting against being pushed and pulled by every other part of my life.
People keep complimenting me for being strong during all of this. Well, as much as I appreciate the kudos, I’m tired of having to be strong, and feeling like a failure when I briefly slip.
I think I’mma find a therapist. This is getting old.