I'm So Tired

I’m tired of death, specifically the sudden kind.

I’m tired of pain.

I’m tired of heartache.

I’m tired of trauma.

I’m tired of grief.

I’m tired of the people I love most being taken away from me like a lightning bolt; people who lived their life so fully with big hearts and so much love and compassion. It made me think. Why is it always the people who loved life the most the ones taken from us first? Or maybe that’s just my experience. I’m tired of carrying around this heavy blanket of sadness that seems to smother me and makes it hard to breath.

It’s a vicious cycle, to grieve the loss of someone with so much life and, in the meantime, lose parts of your own life. I haven’t recognized myself in the mirror since April 9, 2019. So many pieces of me died when my mom died. How can that NOT happen though? The person who raised you and help put you together is no longer next to you to help pick up the broken pieces. You’re left to figure out how to continue living without a key part of your survival and your identity. It feels impossible because it basically is. The ground beneath you is swept up and you’re left free-falling until you can find some stable footing again.

I don’t know many people who have experienced sudden death as intimately as I have. It’s a unique bond to have with those who do “get it.” I’m sure it’s uncomfortable for people to think about someone they love dearly being taken away suddenly and permanently. I used to fall into that category too, ignorant to such trauma and pain.

When my mom died, my Aunt Donna became this light in our lives who welcomed my dad and sisters into her Wildwood home and took care of us. It was a safe haven away from the constant reminder at home that my mom was never coming back. She knew my sisters and I were extremely worried about my dad and would text us to make sure we knew he was okay and taken care of (she would also sneak doing his laundry to make sure he always had clean clothes).

That’s just the type of person my Aunt Donna was. She had so many friends and treated every single person with the same amount of care and love. I wonder how she had so much love and individual attention to give to so many people.

My mom and Aunt Donna had very similar personalities. My mom was a year older so their closeness in age contributed to their “partner in crime” behavior at family gatherings. I loved following them around and just listening to the gossip and the laughter and I pray they have already found each other in Heaven.

I’m so tired of this constant ache. I’m so tired of having to take on each day as if it doesn’t feel like bricks are on my feet holding me down. I’m so tired of feeling like the rest of the people in this world are now able to live in this alternate reality, where really bad things don’t happen to their families. It feels like a privilege I’ll never have again.

Because now I know the hard, cold truth. That none of us are safe from this sadness and I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news to those living in ignorant bliss.

I’m just so damn tired.