There has definitely been a shift that has happened inside me and my grief in the last week or so (whatever, time has lost meaning–and I don’t mean this because of the murder of my friend, her husband and daughter that time is warped–it most certainly is–but I mean that prior to this, I had no sense of time. I understood time, but I still feel like it’s a construct, even more so now). So this could have happened yesterday, or three days ago, or whatever, because I just can’t with time.
Anyway, I felt a deeper drop into my grief, but without extra pain exactly. It’s more like grief was hogging the couch and just moved over so I could take a seat and now we are sitting comfortably with each other. We’re not exactly enjoying each other’s companionship, but we are also not hating it. I mean, if we have to be stuck together now, we might as well figure out who the other one is and figure out how to live together since we will be.
And yes, the pain has felt gentler somehow. One way it’s felt gentler is that when I hear about another murder that has happened (like the family that was murdered in California), I not only immediately can feel the pain of their family and loved ones left behind, but my heart feels more open to them. Like, even though I am in Iowa, and they are in California, I feel like I am making space for them, even though they don’t know it. I hope they can feel it. I don’t want to be this weirdo who contacts them and is like, hey, I see you and I get you, but maybe I will be. And maybe I can be more gentle to that impulse and not say that I am a weirdo for doing it.
Writing my post for Day 16 has felt like a huge release, and that there’s more coming from that. This was the post that I wrote about being tired as a mom. I thought I was coming into this with just one kind of grief, the one recent thing that shook my world, but the very first day, I ended up writing a list of griefs that I have, and that list has somehow gotten longer and has been explored more.
I was driving home from work the other night (again, fuck time because what is it even?) and I realized that I was not sunk to the seat sad. I was looking at the colors of autumn, and I wasn't feeling sad because Sarah isn’t here to miss it. Okay, maybe that isn’t right–maybe it's that I'm not feeling depressed because she’s not here to see them. It almost seemed like the colors are a little brighter and are lasting a little longer, and maybe it’s because of her? I don’t know, but I like the idea that Sarah budged in and is taking over the coloring of the leaves and is making it last longer to let us know…she misses us? That it’s okay to feel whatever we are feeling?
I was taking to my therapist on Monday, and we had a conversation about how, because of Sarah, Tyler and Lula being murdered, I can’t watch Criminal Minds anymore (honestly, it’s okay because without Mandy Patakin, all the episodes after he left were kind of meh anyway). I had a psychological interest here and there to understand human behavior when it came to serial killers, but I wasn’t one of those people who listen to murder podcasts and think serial killers are sexy. After what I have been through, I cannot.
And then my friend, Keidra, brought up the same subject yesterday, and she confirmed that my feelings were valid about this by talking about how her husband pointed out that if someone says that ‘if they get killed by a serial killer, they hope it’s someone as hot as bundy’ is just a fucked up thing to think and say, and I agree. And so did she. But it was nice to have this kind of validation.
I am fully expecting to shift back into pain at some point. Birthdays, anniversaries, they all show up. But I hope that by having this shift into grace and openness and love that I can help myself in those times. And that I can help others too.
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