The Randomness of Not So Random

After Colin died, I thought that I was okay. If someone had asked me how I was, I certainly would have described myself as “fine,” although I was anything but.

When grief happens, sometimes you can compartmentalize things that you can't handle. You turn on blinders. Like when you walk into your house and block out the dings on the walls, and places where repairs are needed; you just fail to acknowledge or “see” those things that are overwhelming or that you can do nothing about.

That is what I did, I hid the pain from myself by dancing around it and refusing to see it. 

My entire life was surrounded by a residual fog that clouded my decisions, judgment, and existence. I couldn’t deal with what I needed to or perhaps needed to carry on as if nothing happened for my children’s sake. They had been through so much sadness and upheaval, that I wanted things to return to “normal” when that was virtually impossible. 

I think everyone around me knew, but just as you are not supposed to wake someone who is sleepwalking; they didn’t want to wake me from my denial, so they let me continue with the charade that I was playing with myself.

I can honestly say that the last ten years of my life don’t seem real. I lived in an altered state, avoiding the pain of the situation by inviting pain in another form. If I was distracted by another tragedy, I didn’t have to clean up the mess from the first one I left behind.

The fog is finally starting to thin. 

Those first years after I moved away from my home, I came back only when necessary. The first trip home was to say goodbye to Colin’s mother who was not doing well. Then, I returned to honor her memorial after she passed. After that, I would not return "home" for eight years.

Looking back, I packed my bags, didn’t even say goodbye to many, left, and intended never to look back. But I unwittingly packed more with me that I hadn't known. All of the pain and grief packed itself and weighed me down even if I didn't recognize it.

I do not remember much of what happened in the wake of Colin's passing, especially those first couple of years. When I spoke about being apologetic, I thought that people must hate me, be happy that I had left, and feel I was ungrateful, perhaps because I didn’t like myself. 

I couldn’t save the one person who needed me most and I couldn’t comfort him. The guilt was literally eating my insides apart and what I felt about myself, I transferred to others in my life. I assumed they felt about me how I did. 

That is why I left so abruptly, I figured it was for the best. 

Recently, after a major life change, I decided it was time to peel off the bandaid and take steps to try to heal. I have been slowly allowing memories back into my mind, thinking about the good times with Colin, even remembering the not-so-good times. 

I am opening my eyes to the dings in the wall, the parts of my house that need to be repaired, and hoping to address them. 

Our literal house was demolished in the recent hurricane, so I am seeking refuge with my sister and a good friend in the Midwest. 

I ran the other day, clocking more mileage than I have in a very long time and breathing again. For so long, I held my breath, only taking in as much air as I thought I needed to exist, but coming "home" again, I found myself taking deep breaths - the cleansing kind. 

I've come to believe that if you don’t have enough oxygen to replenish the soul, the toxins can’t be flushed, and the carbon monoxide poisons you slowly, and daily. That is what it has felt like, toxins just stuck in my body. The toxins of grief, sadness, self-loathing, and guilt.

Not-So-Random Encounter

I had the pleasure yesterday of running into someone randomly, whom I have not seen since the day I left my hometown. My friend and I were at a festival by her home, in a very small town, and off the beaten path. Suddenly,  I felt someone come up behind me, poking my shoulder. When I turned and saw her, something in me lit up, it was instant and immediate joy. 

I had forgotten how very much I missed seeing her beautiful and kind face, and there she was right in front of me. I felt tears in my eyes, but they wouldn’t come. Seeing her catapulted me to decades past and how very much I adore her, how kind she was to me, and how kind so many were when Colin got sick. 

The memories flooded back, and for one of the first times, they weren’t painful or sad. They reminded me of so many people I have missed over the years. 

The fact that she appeared happy to see me was one of the best feelings I can remember. I thought that perhaps people were not all that happy to see me go. 

Maybe they didn’t hate me or think I was ungrateful. 

Maybe I hadn’t shattered everything so important to me. 

Maybe there is such a thing as redemption.

That random chance meeting was too coincidental, too random to be random, and did more for my heart than I have words for. 

As angry as I get at fate and the universe, sometimes it throws you a bone right when you need it. I needed that random-less meeting at just that moment, and am so thankful for those very brief moments that I was able to reconnect with someone very important to me and pray that I will have more of them in the future.