Collective Grief

Grief is a sneaky little minion that doesn't play fair. You can be rocking along, when out of the blue.... BAM!!!! It's got you down beating the snot out if you. Earlier this week I ran to the hospital to pick up the medical records for my MVA. The parking lot was full so I was forced to park in the outpatient surgery lot. I didn't think a thing about it until the sliding glass doors opened into the waiting room and the cool air hit my face bringing with it a flood of memories. Memories of our last thanksgiving, Christmas caroling that silly "I Wanna Hippopotamus for Christmas" as her and Dad stood freezing on the porch. her last birthday and the day after New Year's Day when I decided to call into work and take a personal day. I went over to Mom and Dad's, crawled into bed with her and lay next to her all day long. That was the best day ever. Too many losses in too short of a time. I tucked my head, counted the tile beneath my heels and told myself.... "I will not lose it, I will not lose it." What the heck? You simply cannot prepare for those "Gottcha" moments. The same thing happened today when I walked into the church for a funeral. The second I walked through those church doors (my church doors), here it comes again. It doesn't just bring back my memories, it brings an understanding the road others are walking down as well. I know that loss is part of life, but sometimes it just seems unacceptable. There are days I wish I had a calloused heart, one that felt no loss and wasn't moved with compassion for the pain of others. It was weird for my family, but for a few years after my accident I could sit through the saddest of funerals, movies, or whatever and be the only one not moved. If I ever doubted if that part of the brain has healed, doubt no more. It's like a collective grief for all that was, all that is, and all that will be.