Mayday

It’s a funny thing, grief…

To describe it to someone who has never really felt it to the depths of their core is hard.

Most days it’s like holding a 2 lb weight in your outstretched hand.

At first, it easy. You can hold it all day.

Can hardly even notice it.

Then the burn in your arms and shoulders start to make it uncomfortable.

You can’t hold it as high.

You try and breath and focus, it’s just 2 lbs, it shouldn’t be hard.

Minute by minute, the pain gets worse.

You shake and it burns more than you ever thought possible.

Until you give up and drop it on the floor.

Unfortunately, I can’t leave it there and walk away.

All I can do I take a few breaths, center myself and pick it back up again.

One of my favorite quotes about love is from the movie Practical Magic.

“You ever put your arms out and spin really, really fast ?

Well, that’s what loves like. It makes your heart race. It turns the world upside down. But if you’re not careful, if you don’t keep your eyes on something still, you can lose your balance. You can’t see what’s happening to the people around you. You can’t see your about to fall.”

Grief is just like that.

I spin and can feel the point when I have lost focus and am about to fall.

Crashing into myself again.

I have figured out the signs, when the spin is about to tip and go off center.

I recognized that yesterday morning so I sent out a distress call to my closest friends.

Even saying the word “mayday” out loud was tough.

Admitting I was going down and needed help.

They showed up.

With dinner, wine and comedy movies.

Standing by to help me anyway they could.

Sometimes I don’t have the words to say how I am feeling.

Sometimes I just need someone to sit next to me so I don’t feel alone.

So I can get ready to pick up the weight again.

I have been deep cleaning today and stumbling across cards and love notes.

It sent me spinning out of control again.

Just sitting on the floor in my bathroom, sobbing and missing Frank so much.

I have been working myself into exhaustion so I wouldn’t think about the anniversary of his death approaching.

Turns out it backfired.

The physical and mental exhaustion has left a football field size door for an emotional storm to sweep in and destroy me.

All I can do is take a deep breath and hold it as the hurricane of emotions sweep over me.

Hoping I have enough air to wait it out and reach the surface again.

The one constant thing that brings me comfort is that I loved him with everything I had and he fucking knew it.

Franco,

I love you today, I’ll love you tomorrow and I’ll love you a hundred lifetimes from now.

No matter how much pain I have.

No matter how long I struggle with the fact that you are gone.

I’ll never regret loving you.