Caregiver Blues

Sometimes I think I'm overly civilized, too emotionally in control...or too controlled. I still don't know which. I think if at any time in my life someone had tried to explain the endless and emotionally fucked up trip that is the grieving process I wouldn't have believed it. This thing, called grief, is a blistering, festering wound that just won't heal. If only I could've just fallen all over myself at the time of loss--given it that RESPECT and be done with it. Would it have been easier to move on then? I live with a perpetual scream stuck in my throat, like a piece of meat--on the cusp of being released, but not. Caused by the unintentional delay, freeze, or suspension of the grieving process by not doing it at the time of need. Because it's not cool to weep and wail in public, even when the heart is being ravaged and beat up by that invisible mofo; or suffocated by fear of the inevitable, and longing for that one more moment, just one more day, to hear your voice, to see your face, that smile. Society says everybody goes through it in their own way and time. Then society says but don't do it too long, it's not healthy. So we do it on the QT, while we sit at our desks imitating life, while focusing on that stuff in the files, or with eyes glued to a computer screen that seems to contain all kinds of "important stuff"; while slapping on a smile and maintaining a life-is-good expression so everybody'll see a good sport. When inside it's all about What-the-Fuck! Life is a doting BFF and death is a fricking foe. I think. One takes you in from the cold, and the other spits you out just as you're beginning to feel all warm and cozy. This is what grief feels like to me. All of the above.

This is my melodramatic intro to relaying the 411 on Dad; he still doing well I'm happy to say, and I am just doing. Is it normal to wonder about the days when he won't be doing well? I do that. Yes I do. It's like I'm constantly peeking around a corner to see what's coming next.

I long too hard for yesterday; one more day with mom and one more moment with Kenny. Literally, I dwell on it until it weighs on me. But then I remember that I still have one more, one more, with Dad, and I shut up. Cause I don't want to miss a single moment.

Oh...and Jimmy's in the hospital. I'm worried about him too. He's very sick. Okay.
I'll cut the crap. I'm obviously tired and may just delete this tomorrow morning when I'm sane.