Love is forever…One woman’s journey with grief

Yesterday was a pretty craptastic day.  Today was no winner, either, and the high point of it was a medicinal Peanut Buster Parfait I got at DQ after dinner tonight.  But yesterday was worse, and I wonder how long I’m going to be in this particular trough.  It seems to have staying power.

It was a shitty day at work, where a coworker who counts on me to do her favors on a regular basis pitched an unwarranted fit over a minor problem via an e-mail to her boss, my bosses, and anyone else she could think to rile up over a minor and solvable issue.  She will find her favorite problem-solver unavailable until such time as I’ve decided she’s been punished enough; perhaps then she’ll learn to think before she acts (stupidly).  I am kind, loyal, and helpful, but do not cross me or that will end so fast your head will spin.  

But while that might’ve been enough to ruin my day, the fun did not stop there.  My day started with an 8:30 a.m. e-mail from someone who is now an ex-friend, I guess.  I got dumped, by a widow friend whom I met at my first online grief support group.  I was just thinking the other day that we have been corresponding well over a year now, and had shared a lot of secrets, support, and love.  This came out of the blue, and her e-mail gave me no clues as to why this has come to pass.  I don’t know if it’s something I did, or didn’t do.  I don’t know if it’s because I’m not a Christian, and never will be.  I don’t know if she’s planning to end it all and was saying goodbye so I don’t worry when I don’t hear from her.  (I don’t think so, but one never knows.)  I don’t know anything.  She said that I helped her, and was there for her as a support when no one else was, and sends me love, as always, but goodbye.  She would no longer be reading my blog or e-mailing with me.  No explanation of why; just the "what" she’s decided.

She asked me not to be sad or angry.  I was sad this morning.  I’m angry this afternoon, because I don’t understand.  She said I wouldn’t understand, and that she cannot explain.

I just don’t get it.

One of the cruelest aspects of death, for me at least, has been the unanswered questions it leaves in its wake.  I have found that the hardest part of my grief work.  But now I realize that unanswered questions are one of the cruelest aspects of life, too.

Just when I think I understand people, I realize I don’t understand anything at all.  So I debated whether I let her have her way, or call her and say "What the hell was that?"  Somehow, I suspected neither course of action would result in a satisfactory outcome.   My suspicion was correct.  I did end up calling her.  And while she would say that it is not because I’m not a Christian, and it was nothing I did or didn’t do (negatively, she said), and that she knew she was being unfair, and she hated doing it, she wasn’t going to tell me anything else and that was that.  She also said she wouldn’t hurt herself.  And I hung up, sad, but knowing at least I did all I could.  Clearly, there is something about me she chooses not to deal with.  Whatever it is, it is apparently none of my business.

It bothers me.  A lot.  E says I’m well rid of someone who would behave that way, but doesn’t seem to understand that it hurts anyway, however right he may be.

So the e-mail and the phone call bookended the rotten work day in the middle, and I could not wait for Monday to end.

Hello, Universe:  Yeah, I get that I’m not in control, and I have to live with the unanswered questions.  It was made abundantly clear when A died; I don’t need any more lessons, thanks.

I journaled last night, and told A all about my day, and finished up by making a list of the good things that happened, just to cheer myself up.  I came up with a list of 17, which I thought was pretty good, all things considered.  By the time I finished, it was bedtime, and I was going to take the dogs out one more time and add #18 to my list with a little star-gazing.  We have light abatement laws here, owing to the many observatories around here that take advantage of our clear desert skies, so even in town you can see lots of stars.  The Big Dipper was overhead, and as I took in the night, I talked to A, and asked him if maybe he could send me a shooting star to let me know he was there, and to buck me up after such a day.  

I stared into the darkness a long time, but nothing happened, and I told him I understood that it was probably a lot of work, but I figured I’d ask, because he’s so good with the hummingbirds.  Then I had to yell at one of the pups to stop eating poop.  (It was the poop de grace of an already bad day, let me tell you.)  And when I looked up again, I saw it, streaking briefly across the sky:  a shooting star.  And I smiled with tears in my eyes.

He always counseled patience.