One day at a time...

It’s 5:11 am, Feb. 19, 2006.

I miss my grandmother…

I can’t sleep. I lie in bed. Awake. Alone with my grief.

I miss my grandmother.

I’ve broken down twice in the last two nights… completely overcome with grief. It’s an emotional ambush. You can’t see it coming, and you don’t know what’s going to set you off. It overwhelms me—a complete and sudden surge of sadness. It has been a dark week… a dark month. I’ve been lucky that I’ve been alone when it happens. I don’t like people seeing me like this… I’m an antisocial mourner. I want to be alone with my grief.

The house feels empty. The house felt empty when it was over run by family and friends planning my grandmother’s funeral. I still want to turn the tv to the Chinese channel before I turn it off. It was the only channel she watched, that way she’d only have to turn on the TV to get to it.

I’m physically fine but I know something is not right with me. I don’t feel right. I can act normal… for the most part. A part of me is dying and I’m watching it die.

I want to experience every moment of my sadness, like it’s a measure of how much I cared for my grandmother. I want to feel it at the height of its intensity. I don’t want to dull it or dilute it. I want to consumed by it.

Everything feels false. Nothing feels right anymore… except heather. I’m okay, when I’m with Heather. I can sleep when I’m with Heather. Grandma, always liked Heather. She loved that she was tall, but not taller than me.

5:57am, still can’t sleep.

I haven’t talked much about the week leading to my grandmother’s death or any of the circumstances that lead to it. I mentioned bits and pieces of it to Mike. I know I probably should tell my friends, its not good to repress these things. I just rather not have to repeat the story a dozen times to a dozen different people. Retelling it is like reliving it. I will blog it when I’m ready but it won’t be today.

I’m a tired and emotionally drained.

I miss my grandma.