Holidays: Joy & Sorrow

2016 has been a downright year of craziness. I lost my uncle, close family friend, grandmother, another close family friend, ANOTHER close family friend, one of my reader’s son/Ulcerative Colitis patient and then my childhood best friend lost her grandmother. These were all people who have known since before I knew myself. Four of those people were lost to cancer, one to UC, one to age. And my grandmother? Well, Lupus took over her body and she had doctors that didn’t do their due diligence in caring for her bad hips, her post surgery recovery and everything that had to do with her and her autoimmune disease.

The weight of anger I feel from the loss of these lives is very heavy. I completely understand that the at the end of life is death. That death will come. But I think it’s the way most of these people died. The rapid decline and sudden deaths are never easy to take. Then to get them back to back…it hasn’t been easy. I tend to internalize a lot of things. I’m sure that sounds funny and weird coming from a blogger. But there is a huge difference between typing out your life and sending it out over the internet air waves and having to let the words come out of your mouth. I don’t like crying. I don’t like showing emotions that leave me vulnerable. Surprisingly I’m not cold, I’m actually very empathetic. Which is probably why I work so hard at controlling my emotions. And in trying to be supportive and strong for my aunt, father, sister, cousin, brother and our collective children, I have only allowed myself to cry three times. The pain in my heart is so deep that I am basically numb at this point. The amount of loss felt this year was much too great for me to handle emotionally. So, my gut and nervous system absorbed it and here I am struggling to walk, running to and from the bathroom all night and trying blink without my eyes burning.

Because my grandma suffered from Lupus, we often had the similar symptoms. I could tell her, my scalped hurt and she knew exactly how I felt. We hadn’t been able to touch one another in over 12 years, but she was right there nevertheless. I feel very much alone now. And as this holiday approaches without my son as a distraction to keep me busy (he’s with his father for the holiday), I am faced with the emotions of all of those people I loved not being here this Thanksgiving. My grandmother would tell me to focus on what makes me happy and be thankful for that. And I am. All day, everyday, I thank God for giving me everything I never thought I would want or need. But that doesn’t diminish the sorrow in my heart for the loss of light in it. I suppose it’s okay to be happy and it’s okay to be sad. It’s never all or nothing. It’s just called being human.