Triggered Grief

It’s pitch black and there are only a few cars on the road. Traveling east bound back home after a few hours out with the kids. I felt like they needed some fresh air and they requested to spend some of their holiday money.

Singing to some song I barely know the words to, in the distance ahead I see the lights of an ambulance waiting to merge onto the rural road. As I near the ambulance I see that they have made a complete stop and not actually attempting to pull onto the road from the residential driveway.

As a healthcare professional who has spent many years working in the hospital setting, mostly the emergency department, I said a silent prayer for the patient inside the ambulance as well as the family that is inside the home.

The closer we get to the ambulance, my heart begins to race and I just feel a sense of worry and anxiousness. I tried to shake this by turning up my radio and singing again. Suddenly I am just overwhelmed with these emotions to include sadness. A small voice tells me to look into my rear view mirror. I look up and I see that the ambulance is now a couple cars behind me with its lights on but far enough away that I don’t need to “make way”.

I continue to drive, still experiencing these intense emotions. While the marquee of a million thoughts and stories are scrolling through my mind, I’m startled by the blaring sound of a siren. I look up again in my rear view mirror to see the ambulance had not only turned on the sirens but has also picked up speed. I sped up a little as well and at the time I was unsure why. In hindsight 20/20, I was trying to get away from the ambulance. I was not even a mile from the road I needed to turn on to get home. I was racing to turn before the ambulance could reach me.

The children are asleep in the backseat and I am just a hot mess while driving. After assessing that I would not make it to the road before the ambulance approaches me, I decreased my speed and turned on my flashers. My plan was to pull off on the shoulder to allow the ambulance to pass me.

As I pulled off on the shoulder and come to a complete stop, the ambulance bolts pass me. Those intense feelings of worry, sadness and anxiousness get stronger and stronger. I look up to see the lights on in the back of the ambulance but nothing more as they were making their way to the emergency department.

As I sat on the shoulder with my flasher on, I recount the numerous occasions that I received calls about my Mom being rushed to the emergency department. My eyes began to fill with tears and they fell down my face. Soon I was ugly crying and I could not stop. I had to just sit and cry because I also couldn’t see well enough to drive. My eyes were burning, my nose was running and I was silently sobbing in the front seat trying not to awake my children. I wasn’t successful because my daughter awakes and asks if everything is ok. I lie and say yes. She can see the ambulance in the distance ahead. She asks again if everything is ok and I respond by saying I needed to pull over to let the ambulance pass. She understands and lays her head back down to sleep.

I never knew a place, a person, or a thing could trigger a grief response. (If that is even a thing) I was crying because I could not imagine how my Mom felt riding in the back of an ambulance with the sirens blaring and with emergency personnel all around her. She hated hospitals. Or should I say she was fearful. Strongest woman I know but she had her weaknesses. I begin to feel alone, sad and scared. At this point I just want to get home to my safe space.

I cried all the way home. And once I got home, I cried a little more. I miss her. And I realize that I will never stop missing her. I don’t see how this can or will ever get easier when reminiscing causes such intense and tearful moments. But for once I cried outside the tub (my safe space) and I allowed myself to feel every emotion. I didn’t try to bury it or dismiss it.

But the fact still remains that I miss her something terrible.

Month 9

The number of perfection

It’s been a hell of a day. And to top it off, the week itself has been a complete bitch. It has been 9 months, 39 weeks, 274 days, 6,570 hours and 394,200 minutes since you left me on this God forsaken planet with these humans.

The anticipation of today as well as yesterday was far worse than the actual course of the day. I opted to exit the house today to avoid wallowing in bed and crying endlessly into my pillow, smelling like Christmas Day or Christmas Eve (I can’t keep up) and just being completely sad.

Today, I made the trip to the cemetery to check on the area in which you lay. I’m not sure why I do this. I promise I can always hear you saying, “I don’t know why you come here to cry and be sad. I am not here“. Our beliefs on the “life after” were similar. However today, I just needed some peace. And being in a desolate cemetery gave me that sense of peace. Nothing but stillness and silence except for when the wind blew. Sitting at your feet as always, with my hands in the Earth, stroking the grass as if it was your hair. Truly weird Mother…I know. But you know, you have pretty weird children lol.

After sitting with you in silence for a while I was certain the kids would enjoy a day out since I ditched our Annual Christmas Trip. No worries Mom, they will definitely reconvene next year. This year was a blip.

To get my mind on a different track, I attempted to do a little retail therapy which ended horribly. I ended up buying the kids each a toy. It is the day after Christmas…palm to face. I know what you’d say. I rode them around the base showing them where I use to live and how the one time you decided to come into the area, I could not get you to come on base with me. You were not interested in the Army life I was living. You were still pretty pissed that you signed the paperwork to allow me to join at the tender age of 17. I’m sure as time went on, you were glad that you did. And as a bonus, I influenced my younger Brother to join and with much trial and error, you were finally able to see your youngest child and only son off into the Army as well. All you wanted was for us to get away and do something with our life. Yet here I still reside. But I came back for you. Now I am beyond ready to relocate. The obstacles just keep appearing in my path, but I will try to not let it deter me.

I saw Brother for a brief moment today. I think he feels as though he owes me an excuse for not hanging around much while he is visiting but it’s fine. After all he is an adult. He spent time with family today, since I had no desire to do so. His appearance is for the both of us. You know like how I use to show up for you. Smh. We’d play rock, paper, scissors to see who would make an appearance lol. So I’m thankful he went. However, I am sorry if they badgered him with questions but I think he’s well equipped with how to answer. (If you want to know, call her and ask…) You taught him well Mother lol.

This month was no easier than the last. I had to remind myself a bunch of times that I didn’t need to get you a gift. These holidays are really fucked up. I have therapy this week so I’m sure this will be at the top of the list of topics to discuss. I feel emotionally exhausted, with waves of excessive thinking and just a serious case of grief overload. Tomorrow’s another day to try and move through the stages of grief feeling as though no one understands this pain, and my disinterest in wanting to explain it. Retreating to my bubble..


Christmas Without You

Although it is sad to reminisce
On Christmases we once knew,
This year I tried to celebrate
All in memory of you.
I attempted to put aside my sorrow
With every unshed tear,
And concentrated on all the time and love
We shared when you were here.
Our time together, though very short, taught me
What Christmas time is for,
And that's what I will always remember
Until we meet once more.