Swallowed
When I feel sick, I get a dull ache in my jaw. I don’t know if this is common for everyone, I can’t say it’s something I’ve ever discussed with anyone else. If I’ve been trying not to be sick for too long, I get a dull headache that spans from one temple to the other, crossing over the front of my forehead.
When I feel like crying, it’s all this and more. My chest feels tight, and the tightness radiates up my neck, into my jaw, in my gums, up the side of my face and across the temples. My stomach aches and my shoulders hurt.
I’ve cried, but I haven’t cried properly. I saw the most depressing movie ever last night, but something in me was hardened. I watched and felt the tension mounting in my jaw and the rest of my face for the entire movie, but I didn’t want to cry. Maybe I was worried that I wouldn’t stop. Maybe I just didn’t want to cry in a room of people I didn’t know. I found myself wishing and waiting for the movie to end so I could get in my car and play sad music by myself and cry.
And I did.
But I didn’t cry properly. I cried when I held her hand while she was dying, I cried when she died, I’ve cried in the middle of the night when I’ve woken up, I’ve cried first thing in the morning and last thing at night, but I still haven’t cried properly. I know because the tension is all still there. My face and my neck and my chest and my stomach and my shoulders, even my ankles all still hurt. I feel like I’m going to feel like this forever, even though I know I won’t. I know this is just grief but it feels like this grief will be eternal.
I was there with her for four hours when she was dying. I cried a little and I saw that she was dying- I don’t think I’d been prepared for how exhausting dying appears to be- but it didn’t feel real.
I went and saw her body today. I saw the casket at the end of the room, fireball orange (the colour name gave a few family members a laugh) staring at me from far away and I knew I had to see her because maybe it would help me grieve. Maybe it would help me accept that yes, she is gone now.
For the first ten seconds I looked at her and almost felt woozy. I thought I was going to have to sit down and then my silly brain took over. Or my heart. I don’t know which one is doing this to me. All of a sudden my brain or my heart said to me, “But, what are you worried about? She’s just sleeping.”
Well, she looked like she was just sleeping, didn’t she?
Someone had told me the other day that she looked beautiful. I didn’t believe it. I thought I’d see her and just think she looked dead.
But she didn’t.
She looked asleep. And she did look beautiful. And I could have sworn that Nan was still in there. And maybe that’s why seeing her body didn't work for me today. My brain wouldn’t let me believe that she was dead. But I don’t feel in denial. I don’t know how I feel. I know she’s dead but maybe I’m crowding it out.
I feel like my last hope to cry and go insane is the funeral tomorrow. But I don’t know. I just don’t know. I’m hardened and angry at everyone around me, and it makes it all so difficult.
When I feel like crying, it’s all this and more. My chest feels tight, and the tightness radiates up my neck, into my jaw, in my gums, up the side of my face and across the temples. My stomach aches and my shoulders hurt.
I’ve cried, but I haven’t cried properly. I saw the most depressing movie ever last night, but something in me was hardened. I watched and felt the tension mounting in my jaw and the rest of my face for the entire movie, but I didn’t want to cry. Maybe I was worried that I wouldn’t stop. Maybe I just didn’t want to cry in a room of people I didn’t know. I found myself wishing and waiting for the movie to end so I could get in my car and play sad music by myself and cry.
And I did.
But I didn’t cry properly. I cried when I held her hand while she was dying, I cried when she died, I’ve cried in the middle of the night when I’ve woken up, I’ve cried first thing in the morning and last thing at night, but I still haven’t cried properly. I know because the tension is all still there. My face and my neck and my chest and my stomach and my shoulders, even my ankles all still hurt. I feel like I’m going to feel like this forever, even though I know I won’t. I know this is just grief but it feels like this grief will be eternal.
I was there with her for four hours when she was dying. I cried a little and I saw that she was dying- I don’t think I’d been prepared for how exhausting dying appears to be- but it didn’t feel real.
I went and saw her body today. I saw the casket at the end of the room, fireball orange (the colour name gave a few family members a laugh) staring at me from far away and I knew I had to see her because maybe it would help me grieve. Maybe it would help me accept that yes, she is gone now.
For the first ten seconds I looked at her and almost felt woozy. I thought I was going to have to sit down and then my silly brain took over. Or my heart. I don’t know which one is doing this to me. All of a sudden my brain or my heart said to me, “But, what are you worried about? She’s just sleeping.”
Well, she looked like she was just sleeping, didn’t she?
Someone had told me the other day that she looked beautiful. I didn’t believe it. I thought I’d see her and just think she looked dead.
But she didn’t.
She looked asleep. And she did look beautiful. And I could have sworn that Nan was still in there. And maybe that’s why seeing her body didn't work for me today. My brain wouldn’t let me believe that she was dead. But I don’t feel in denial. I don’t know how I feel. I know she’s dead but maybe I’m crowding it out.
I feel like my last hope to cry and go insane is the funeral tomorrow. But I don’t know. I just don’t know. I’m hardened and angry at everyone around me, and it makes it all so difficult.
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