This past week has flown by in a blink. In my attempt to cope I can’t remember much of how the time was spent. I know there were lots of supportive words and hugs, lots of decisions to be made, lots of expensive charges to the credit cards, lots of coffee, lots of memories being shared, lots of time spent at the synagogue, not too much food, not too much sleep, not too much time alone because that is dangerous and that is when you can’t distract from the thoughts.
Husband now shares my congestion, he has been very supportive and I appreciate that he has had no issues with having my mother and brother staying with us this past week. We wanted them to stay until we can clean out my mother’s house but they want to go back tonight. I am worried about them having too much time alone. Both of them have stated they feel guilty and responsible for my father’s death, although really there can be no blame in that. I understand that guilt is a natural part of grieving but it worries me because this loss has come so soon on top of losing Lillian. I don’t want to see them hurting so much. Also, though, taking care of them allows me to avoid having to fully embrace the reality that I have lost my biggest and strongest safety net and that any future children I have will never know what it’s like to have my father as their Zayde.
I can’t quite deal with the thought of going back to work tomorrow, I will ease into it by working from home, hopefully the entire week. I am still sick, still probably contagious, so that’s another reason to avoid the office. Really I know I will cry when some of my coworkers offer their condolences and I don’t want to do that right now, I don’t need to add to the congestion.
Next weekend we will start cleaning out their house. Rent a dumpster really clean out the house. I will breakdown. I already know it will happen. There will be lots of family there to help but it won’t stop me from losing it. I had just gotten to a point where I was pretty much back to “ok” after Lillian’s death. It’s like you are on a path and something slaps you off into high grass and brush full of thorns and stickers and ticks. Sometimes it takes awhile to find your way back to the path again, except often it’s a different path you find yourself on but you are just grateful to out of the weeds and so you travel that path even if it’s not the one you wanted to be on. No sooner had we found at least a semblance of a path again through the wilderness and we have been slapped even harder and father off, lost in the brambles surrounded by pain and anxiety. I don’t know how long it will take to find the road back to ok this time.