Grieving When You Don’t Know How

My mind has become a little unpredictable.

Photo by Karim MANJRA via Unsplash

We planned to make lunch like that a regular thing. That would never happen. Four days later, she’d suffer a brain aneurysm that led to complications that took Rhonda from us forever.

To say that I’m devastated would be an absolute understatement. I’m a mess and I don’t know what to do with myself. A lot of us are.

“Pardon my wife. We buried her friend today,” I remember him explaining to a small group of ladies on the other side of the patio.

This time, I have no husband. I just have stillness in my house that I’m finding unnerving. I kept moving at 80 miles an hour this weekend. I had to. I couldn’t stop. I distracted myself with anything and everything until I ran out of steam.

She loved these. Photo by Aliona Gumeniuk via Unsplash

I grief shopped online and in a few days my brand new Lionel Richie welcome mat will arrive. She’d have loved the stupid thing. I have no idea why it gave me comfort, but it did.

I can barely open social media. We had 102 friends in common. She’s everywhere. All I see her beautiful, smiling face. We’re all grieving but every time I see a new memory post, my heart sinks more. It’s overwhelming, especially when an old post shows up from several days ago when she was still alive. I understand everyone’s grief and I love them for it. It just makes me tired.

Flaming pinball, nerd, music lover, wine snob, horrible violin player. No, I won’t stop taking pictures of my drinks. IG: vanessaltorre

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