Who Knows Where the Time Goes?

Twice I started. Twice I walked away without pushing the publish button. So bear with me as I give these life.  Be warned. There are more than one.
~ dpm / September 15, 2018

Who knows where the time goes?
September 20, 2016

Obviously not me. I’ve been gone so long even I’ve lost my place.  But there have been things, I try to explain to anyone who’s listening.  They have to be mighty big things to miss two whole years.  And they have. The biggest. The worst losses you can imagine if you know how it is to lose both your parents (or spouse or child or grandparent or beloved pet or whoever) in the space of a year and a half. But this even goes further. Since 2011, 24 + people (and a great dog) who used to be in my life at some point are just no longer there. Some expected. Some without warning and out of the blue. 24. 24. I’m stuck on that number. It’s actually increased since then, but I’m staying stuck on 24.

I won’t go there right now, because I’m on the upside of grief today and, as Nina Simone sings, “I’m Feeling Good!”

I will just put this out there.  To all of you who said the completely wrong thing in the aftermath, I forgive you. But I ask you to sort your words more tenderly and thoughtfully the next time you find yourself having to console.

What not to say.

1.  God needed another angel.
   No, he/she didn’t, there are plenty already. We need some serious angels right here  on earth, trust me on this.
2.  At least they aren’t suffering any longer.
   I want to like this one, but on second thought, NO, now I’m the one who’s suffering.
3.  Everything happens for a reason.
   By who’s standard of reason?
4.  It was his/her time.
   And you know this how?
5.  He/She wouldn’t want you to be so sad.
   Maybe not, but that’s kinda beside the point, now isn’t it?  In fact, I think my Mom  might be a little ticked off if I wasn’t sad.
6. God never gives you more than you can handle.
   Don’t even get me started on this one. God does all the time.  I mean he gave us   Donald Trump, right?
7. He/She’s in a better place.
   Again, No … the better place would be in the kitchen making me some damn Mudhens or in a lounge chair cheering on the Tar Heels.

Just say I’m sorry and hug me. Let me talk about them. Hand me a real handkerchief. I promise it’s easier than having to mutter some platitude that even you probably don’t believe.  And stop asking me ……

’cause if you’ve been there, you already know.

And, oh yeah, there was that hip replacement a week after my mom died. Where I spent the week between dealing with cremation, death certificates, cleaning out her room – the business end of death. The drugs and the medical haze that fuzzed out and postponed the grief gave me something else to focus on for 3 months in the aftermath – while I still sorted  -though it felt eerily like snooping – through the personal papers and possessions.

So that’s a snippet. Aren’t you glad you asked?

There’s plenty of good though. Stay tuned for that!