Weary

Tonight I went through Nate and Noah’s room to clean and organize it.  At one point the chaos was great and my poor Nate just stood there frozen with tears running down his face.  I found it ironic that I was struggling to not do the same thing.  It happened to me the first time I deep cleaned the kitchen cupboards after Hayden died.  I think it had been a year.  I had basically opened the door and stuffed whatever groceries were bought for far too long, and the day finally came that I had to do something about it.  Many times I stand by the dryer in the laundry room with tears running down my face.  Don’t ask me why.   Many times I would go down to do laundry and find Hayden’s clothes in the washer.  So I would dry them, fold them and set the basket in his room.   Always as I did it, I hoped he knew how much he was loved and how amazing I knew him to be.   The laundry room always makes me think of him.  Yet for some reason I could barely breathe cleaning their room tonight and Nate felt it too.  Unfortunately I know my closet is waiting for the same tender loving care, and I can barely breathe thinking about doing it.  

To be completely honest, I am weary to the bone.  I’m tired.  I’m sinking as I think about the holidays.  I just don’t want to.  My ideal would be to just go.  To a beach.  To my happy place.  Ignore       Pretend we aren’t celebrating another holiday with a piece of us missing.  But we have little kids.  We have grandkids.  We have people expecting normal.  Whatever that is.

I spend a lot of time okay... I have peace.  I find comfort.  But I am riding a wave of grief unlike any to this point.  I’m tired of expectations.  I’m tired of everyone else’s grief being more important.  I’m weary of worrying about how Hayden’s death affected everyone else.  I’m weary of having no soft place to fall.  Because whether anyone admits it or not, there is an expectation, and even a judgment of how I am supposed to be. I’m tired of feeling alone in a room full of people I love.  I’m tired of looking out for everyone else’s feelings and reactions but nobody checks in with me.  Or worse, is mad that I need my feelings to be seen.   I’m tired of being the doormat to everyone else’s feelings.  I’m simply tired.  Tonight I’m tired.  I have sat here alone in the hot tub and watched the trucks go up and down the back road and fought the demons screaming inside me.  Imaging what it would feel like to know the next truck I see go by is him, coming home.  Tonight I’m tired of the silence.  Tonight I’m angry that nobody sees me or my pain.  Tonight I’m angry at the choices that took him away and left anxiety, PTSD and utter heartbreak behind.  I’m weary of wondering if Nate is going to have a good night, or a night full of horrible dreams and listening for him to come racing through the house not even awake but in panic mode.  I’m weary of listening to Thayne’s  nightmares and whispers of “no, no, no” and trying to comfort him while he sleeps. I’m weary of hoping each morning will be an okay morning for Noah to go to school without a fight, or worse, a complete meltdown.  I’m weary of waking up at 2 a.m. wishing someone was listening for my bad dreams.

How’s that for a pity party.  I know I’m not alone. I know it. But I’m going to ride this wave tonight and just feel it.  And tomorrow I’ll get up and face the world and find a million reasons to smile.  Tonight I’ll be weary.