Where Do My Readers Come From?

Thursday, April 18, 2013

The Process...

"I need to process this" "You can't get over this until you process this."  What does that even mean? Why do I need to process anything? Why do I want to process anything? Why can't I just get over it? Is it all just a bunch of psycho-babble that we throw out there to make ourselves feel better? Do we ever really process anything? If I process it, does that mean that I totally forget about that person? What if I don't want to process it? What if feeling the truth and the raw honesty of that pain part of the process and perhaps the most important part of the process, regardless of how uncomfortable it makes others? 

Is there a correct way for me to mourn? The last time I had to "process" something was when my Grandma died. She was 90+ years old and I knew it was going to happen. But, intellectually knowing that didn't necessarily make it any easier. Though the idea that she had lived a long and full life was a nice thought to cling to at times. There are days that I still miss her greatly, I see her face in my Mom's. They shared some of the same mannerisms and vocal inflections. So in some ways Grandma is still with me and the rest of the family in the way that we all look and act and the way we have picked up learned behaviors from her. 

But this whole mess with Eric is nothing like that. He had not lived a long life. I think he lived a full life with many, many excellent adventures. But that is not enough for me! He had many more adventures waiting for him and those are never going to happen now. There were many bottles of whiskey to be drunk and cigars to be smoked and bonfires to be built. There were miles and miles of highway to be ridden on the motorcycle that he loved so much. There was pages and pages of books to be read and talked about. There was lots and lots of music to be listened to and debated. THERE WAS LOTS AND LOTS OF LIFE YET TO BE LIVED! He is not supposed to be gone. 

I lay in bed at night and my mind just keeps digging. It just keeps digging up memories of past experiences and I think when will this stop. I am not actively trying to make myself miserable? I am not trying to wallow in it. But, then I second and third guess myself because, God forbid, that I just trust the honesty of my emotions. Why is it that I can't just trust what I am feeling about Eric is the truth and my truth that is true to my experiences with him? Why am I worried that I am not mourning him the right way and that somehow in my mourning I am going to offend someone else? 

And here is where I peter out because I do not even understand my own thoughts.....



This is all that I know...I know that I loved him and I know that I will miss him and that I will see him and hear him when wind the wind blows and my pipe is smoked and my whiskey is drunk. At those times and many others I am going to know that he is still with me. 



 
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