Seven Stages

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They say there are seven stages of grief. I’m in the one where you dig a little hole in your house, and hope never to have to come out. I haven’t returned an email in two weeks (sorry). I haven’t graded a paper in nearly three (eek).  And people keep saying it’s fine, you do what you need to do, and me, I don’t feel fine. I feel less able to mother, more able to anger, and entirely lost in a sea of condolences.  I would trade every card, and bouquet of flowers, every nice thought, gift sent, and compliment paid on a eulogy well done, to not be in this place.

Spring is here, and I don’t want to enjoy it.  I want to drink three beers, go to bed early, and face the next day in a little bit of a daze.

I normally end these diatribes of cantankerous ire with a little hope, and a little joy, or a little brightness to be found.  But tonight, even a trip into town and ice cream doesn’t turn up the edges of my frown.

It’s just, that last week I had to have my big girl pants on – I had to do the things that needed to be done — and now this week, this week, I would like to eschew pants and responsibility altogether. Find me that hole, line it with blankets, pipe in some tunes, and stock it with beer, that’s where you’ll find me.  At least for a little while.

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One response »

  1. I don’t know what the 7 stages are. All I know is that losing your father sucks and that’s where you are. You are in a world of grief and it’s hard to feel anything else. I know. I was there 30 years ago. It will get better in time. The time and process are different for each of us. And when it does start to get better, there may be moments when you wish the grief was intense as it is now, because that brings him closer. But there will come a time when the happy days and the sad days even out. And then the happy days will overtake the sad days. There will always be sad days thrown in there, but you will be okay.

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