A Pawn in the Checkmate of Grief

I wrote a post the week after our family learned of my grandma's inoperable cancer. Now, I write a post a week after her journey onward and upward. It's like the calm before and after a storm. I know I'm just heading into the storm of the journey of grief but there are still some emotions that surface. I dip in and out of shock, denial, utter sadness. The last few days, I've experienced all 3 back to back to back for the entire day. When I began this blog, I decided I'd tell the truth. Be honest and vulnerable. And maybe in return, the ones that read would be encouraged. Have a road map to some of the things they themselves walk thru or encounter or struggle with. A lot of what I share is raw and tender. I'll use this opportunity to say, please don't take offense to what I share. It's part of my journey. And you're just reading about it. It's therapeutic for me to write. And you're my lab rats.

I think a lot of people struggle with how to walk out grief. It's so complex. And merely agreeing that death is a part of life isn't the ticket that'll all of a sudden free you from all the emotions that pack a mean punch while experiencing the death of someone that's close to you. It's life changing. I sincerely hope that the truth and rawness of my posts don't get lost in the taboo of death and talking about what you actually experience. I think a lot of times, people struggle with putting to words what they are feeling. And if one could just put into words exactly how you're feeling, then MAYBE someone could really understand what you're going thru. This is impossible. Nobody else is you. Nobody will ever feel like you do. Nobody will ever FULLY understand what you're feeling. Except. There is Jesus. Sometimes He's the only one who really knows how you feel.

This is what I'm able to feel; Sometimes I stare off into nothing. When normally my eyes would dry out and I'd rub them back to health, now I just continue to stare. At nothing. At everything. My eyes stay moistened and fixed on the nothing or the everything. I feel like a walking zombie. I feel the motions of everyday living but barely. Like a robot. Walking thru a tunnel and all I can hear are my own footsteps though busyness surrounds me. I'm just another pawn in the checkmate of grief. People move about me. Talk at me. Say how sorry they are to me.

But i really don't give a damn. 'Sorry' implies I was wronged. 'Sorry' means something happened that shouldn't have. You're 'sorry' when you hurt someone's feelings. You're 'sorry' when you step on someone's toe.  Telling me how deeply sorry you are for me isnt supposed to be a great segue into your own grief you experienced 10 years ago. I dont really care. Saying you're sorry means you're owning some kind of guilt. I'd rather be left alone to stare at nothing. At anything. Not some weak apology about a death that isn't anyone's fault. Is it someone's fault?
Numb. Restless. Doubtful. Worried. Mad. Furious. Confused. Afraid. Sad. Anxious. Tired. 

Wait...she's not seriously gone.
Grama...she can't really be dead. 
The cancer. It outlived her. It fought her as she fought it.  People die everyday. Funerals everyday. Tears shed. Hearts break. Anger ensues. And life goes on. And more people die.

Unjustly. Early. Brutally. Tragically. Slowly. Painfully. On time. Out of time.  Do I have a right to my grief? Do I really wanna own something like grief?  Heck no. I don't want people's apologies. It doesnt mean a thing.