No Time to be Sad

 When I was a child in the 80's, people didn't have sadness or depression.  Or at least not in the house I grew up in.  Sad?  What's there to be sad about?  So-and-so doesn't have an arm or a leg and they are still out there doing things.  It's funny now as I write this that I just do not recall a large number of amputees in my hometown, but apparently my parents knew tons of them.  I laugh-cried when I heard my mom, two days after losing her husband of 58 years, mutter to herself in the other room "C'mon, Mary, pull it together, it's not like you lost an arm or leg."

Pull it together. Move on. Look for the good. We don't live in a society that gives people adequate time to grieve.  Three days bereavement for most of us and then we are expected to go back to work, to life, to school, to our new normal.  I zombie-walked through that first week back to work.  I felt like a had a weighted blanket wrapped around me and every movement had to be thought out or took forever.  I was also very short-tempered.  Everything is annoying when you are sad and can't just wrap up in a real weighted blanket and just be sad.

We are all familiar with the many stages of grief, but I am not sure anyone really tells us how to move through the stages while also moving through life.  It is a lot.  I am relieved to say that the weighted-blanket heaviness has dissipated.  Now, it's more like I am a black and white TV with bunny ears in a world full of HDTV and color on full-volume.  Too loud!  Too colorful!  Too energetic!  My eyes! My eyes!

Me.

My siblings and I all agree that we have had very little time to just be sad about our dad because we are worried and concerned about our mom.  What is she going to do?  What are we going to do with her?  Can she live on her own?  All this while actually dealing with our mom who is convinced she has to move out in the next week (she does not), and is working through her own grief by "organizing things."  This is code-word in our family for throwing things out that are currently annoying us and this is not something someone with Alzheimer's needs to be doing on her own.  So there is all that too.  How do we give enough time to think about this while teaching, while running a kitchen, while running meetings and financials, while still just being sad about our dad?

My therapist (because I do believe in sadness, depression, and mostly serotonin-boosting meds) says that I am just supposed to be whatever it is I am feeling. I am trying, but I am feeling a lot of things. I am feeling grateful to my person who drove around two great lakes in the middle of winter to be with me and continues to be with me. I am feeling sad and scared and stressed for my mom. I am feeling guilty that my dad's last few months were probably so exhausting and hard.  I am feeling comforted by the outpouring of support for myself and my siblings and my mom.  I am feeling angry my parents didn't make better financial choices.  I am feeling busy having started grad school amidst all this.  I am feeling that I miss my sweet kids more than ever.  Boy, am I feeling.

We just feel all the things and keep moving through life, just like a million other grieving people do, but what a crap deal.  Remember the book The Red Tent? Where all the menstruating women and women with small children were put to the side, in the red tent, to do their woman things? Society needs a sad tent.  Where you sit and just be sad and talk about sad things without worrying you are talking too much about sad things.  Where you could alternately weep and laugh with others feeling the same way.  There would be time to sit and think and just be.  I picture this tent in mostly navy and greys and perhaps a section as a rage room for when the anger peaks.  And only when you have had time to sit and be sad and just be, only then do you leave the tent and carry a smaller, more manageable grief into the world with you.