this past week and half sucks

[trish]

buried a young man last thursday, sigh, this is what i wrote for my friend, his mother.

Grief
Being shoved into the flood,
being overcome by a sunami.

The shock overwhelms you,
you panic, struggle to breath.
The waters surround you
kicking and fighting you surface, to breath.
Just breathing, you try to focus.
Where am I? Why am I here, fighting to breath!?
Then the thought of lose, they're gone!
The waters suck you under.
You kick, and struggle, and break the surface again..
to just breath.
You are in the torrents of grief.
Noooooooo, you scream.
You start to fight, try to swim, but the current is to strong.
It pulls you under, you hold your breath until you chest hurts!
Just when you think you can't take it
you surface...gasping.
You realize you tears are adding to the torrent,
but you can't stop them!
One tear is like a billion gallons.
God help me you scream, you feel like you are being washed away.
Then you hit a snag, a branch, a log.
You grasp onto to it, catch your breath.
You're can hear the voices around you.
"just hold on, you're okay"
You look up and there are others, not in the water
but setting up snags and dead falls to catch you.
Running on the shoreline, the whole time you are floating down stream.
They have been in the water, struggling
They know that their place is to set up snags
For you to rest. As others did for them.
You are not alone, ever!
We've all been in the water, struggling to breath.
It's the ones who run along the banks, setting up snags
to catch us.
As it is for you, as it is for me.

[AidaC]

I'm sorry to hear about your friend's loss. It's difficult when we lose someone so young and I'm sure you've been a great comfort to her. Thank you for sharing your heart with us.

[trish]

Thank you Aida, although I'm not sure how much of a comfort I've been. The death of this young man, Bryan, has knocked me for a loop. I don't understand why. I'm 53 years old, I've buried many people in my life, young and old. Bryan died Oct. 4 of a heroine overdose. My daughter called me Saturday morning, I was down on our farm. It was a beautiful day, I got to work, but my eyes were filled with tears and I had that horrible lump in my throat. I talked myself out of crying. I finished up what I had to do and came home on Wednesday for the wake. I've been to dozens of wakes, people I've loved with my whole heart, and people I've barely known. I was NOT prepared for this wake. Bryan's mom, Carol and I were really close when our kids were growing up. Carol and Lee divorced 15 years ago, and Carol moved out with the kids. The first few years I would see her and talk to her when she dropped the kids off. I probably haven't seen her in the last ten years.
Lee was outside when we arrived. I went over to him, gave him my condolences, that damn lump in my throat came back. Went into the funeral home. It was packed! Saw all the neighbors in the back corner, but I knew I had to go see Carol first. She was standing in front, by the casket, graciously talking to people, with tissue in her hand. She was talking to some other people, so we (myself, my husband and 3 daughters) just waited. I stepped forward, then, I don't know what happened. Carol just let out this cry "Oh Trish" She was in my arms, her head on my shoulder, her face against my neck sobbing. I don't know! I was holding her while she was sobbing, those deep gutteral sobs. I just stroked her hair and rubbed her back. I cried with her, but not like she was. She composed herself, lifted her head, and tried to tell me what happened. I was cupping my hands around her face, holding her head in my hands. I had this strange thought, I've never done this for any one other than my children or grandchildren. Here I was holding her, like I would a child. She started sobbing again. I pulled her onto my shoulder again. I felt her tears, snot and saliva running down my chest. I was again stroking her hair, it was so soft, and smelled like apples. Yeah, that was my thought. Carol smells like apples. WTH?
The funeral was better, if that's possible. Carol and I talked after the funeral. We have talked everyday after the funeral. Her pain is so raw. I can step into it, or walk away.
Empathy sucks. I don't want to deal with my own pain, let alone some one else's. Sigh Guess you just step into the shit of life with a lot of hope