It comes in waves

This might not make much sense without having read the post before this one. But nevertheless, still just as true. It's been one week since my family and I received the devestating news about my grandma. I realize the word 'devestating' packs a mean punch, but it's true. My grandma was going to have a surgery that would get rid of her stomach cancer and after, would go on living a normal life. Except for changing her diet. That all changed when the cancer monster was found in her spleen and pancreas. Inoperable cancer. In a moment. It went from, 'you'll recover fine" to, "you only have 3 months left with your grandma (mom, sister, great grandma) needless to say, it's not what any of us had expected. We weren't prepared.

And now we will spend the next few months preparing. My grandma doesn't know about the time limit. And we know that is best. Less for her to worry about and more reason for her to really live the life she has left. The important thing is that we have time left. Like I expressed honestly in the previous post, that doesnt make it less hard to deal with. It doesn't mean the tears shed and stored up, waiting to be shed will be any less dense. They will fall heavily. Like the snow that packs inside a cloud, waiting to fall to the ground in puff white flakes, or wet, heavy, packing flakes. So the tears pile up behind heavy, tired eyes.

It comes in waves. The emotion. The realization. Like a memory once faded, foggy at first but then comes flooding back in every vivid detail. Yesterday was a good day for me. And when I say good, I only mean that I didn't cry. That's how I measure my days. Good if I dont cry Bad if I do. As I write that, it is true, that's how I feel. But I know that just because you allow yourself the privilege to feel, even if you feel awful, doesnt necessarily mean its a bad day. I'd say it'd be a successful day.

It comes in waves. The reality. The last week's events. I wasnt at the hospital. There was no need for all of us to be there for a surgery that would allow for a full recovery. I've heard my mom tell the story from her view. And sometimes I recall that. Other days I thank God I wasnt with my mom in the "bad news delivery room". But when it comes in waves, they crash heavily against the shore of my breaking heart. Ignorantly. Without reproach. Without warning. No siren of alarm to prepare. Just rudely crashing loud. Devestating. I recall little moments of my newborn grief.

Sitting at our bar in our kitchen listening to my mom share with my dad. She told him a story I will always remember. After the blow of the news, the doctor came in and was talking to those in the room. He asked, "How many grand kids does she have?" my mom answered 14...and 3 great grand kids. He replied, "She has been very blessed." I felt the subtle warning of warmth behind my eyes and the tears rolled down my cheeks. And perhaps the greatest amount of pain I felt was standing in our kitchen. Huddled over a store bought salad. My fork scraped mindlessly over croutons and dried lettuce. The words swirled around in my head. Then they thumped loudly in my ears. Then it came in a wave. I started to cry. Hard. Thick crocodile tears plummeted into my salad. And I wailed. My dad came over to rescue my salad from the flood and said, knowingly, "what's the matter?" Those words. The ones that came in waves, thundered from my mouth as I realized the hard truth of them. As if spitting them out in and through my tears would bring some sort of relief. "I don't want grandma to die, Dad!" Tsunami. Waves of wailing and tears spilled out onto my dad's grey t-shirt.

When your heart comes pouring forth with that kind of force, something happens. You actually feel clarity. You understand why you're sad. And the truth can't even help itself but to come flowing out. It came two-fold. First, my own pain in realizing my grandmas fate and secondly, realizing just how sad it makes me to see others walk thru pain and sadness. The next thing I said only served to make me cry harder. Unashamed. I said, "I don't want mom to be sad! She's gonna be so sad!" And when truth comes, so does healing. The tears were a start of healing. I know because my dad started to cry. A man of few words and fewer emotions and zero tears. He tried to hide it. But he sucks at it.

It comes in waves. And some days are harder than others. I know today is a wave day. I know because I write when I feel.