…. that is causing so many of us to feel so many more emotions right now?

I don’t know.
I still don’t know how this grief thing works.
Or, more pointedly, how it doesn’t work.

All I do know is that it sucks.

It sucks that Dan’s “date” was yesterday (I just can’t use the word “anniversary” to describe the annual reminder of such a horrific day).
It sucks that the hurt still hurts.
It sucks that there’s no magic pill to take to make it stop hurting.
No magic words to say, no magic actions to perform.
It must just hurt until it doesn’t hurt quite so much.

And it really does get to that point.
I promise.
But there are still times.
Times when that wave comes rolling in behind me, quietly so that I can’t hear it coming ….. and then it crashes over the top of me, knocking my head down and my body to my knees.

Yesterday I found myself on my knees, trying hard to push myself up out of the water so that I could grab a gasp of air before falling back down again.

I had to drive downtown yesterday with one of my children.
I didn’t want to be driving downtown, but it seems that I had no choice.
Not a good parental choice anyway.
One of my children made a very stupid decision.
Incredibly stupid.
And then said child forgot about said decision.

Unfortunately, life sometimes has a way of reminding us …. and others ….. at the very worst possible moment …. of those decisions. And they come to light.
And it did.
So I was driving downtown to go talk to an attorney.
A defense attorney, who might represent my child.
I felt very emotional …. and very much alone.

I haven’t driven downtown much in the last 3+ years.
At least, not during the day time.

Downtown + daytime + emotions trying to be pushed back while driving with a child I’m angry at + feeling alone, vulnerable and taken for granted + seeing lots and lots of men in suits walking around, just like Jim used to = one huge, gigantic wave.
Huge.
Bigger than any I’ve felt in quite some time.

And yet I managed to keep it together.
Sort of.
I did cry half way during the meeting when asking this nice (and really good looking!), yet expensive attorney why I should hire him when I doubt that my child will not make another “stupid decision” in the not-too-far-distant-future.
(I love my children. Fiercely. Hugely. Unquestionably. Always. No matter what. But I do not always enjoy being a parent.)

Yes, I cried.
But it wasn’t the ugly cry.
That came later.
After the meeting.

My child rode home with a friend who met us for the meeting.
He wanted to spend some time with this child and talk about stupid decisions.
And of course I agreed.
I needed time and space to succumb to the wave.
And succumb I did.

That wave crashed down on me inside the car and it, and I, filled the car with a lot of salt water.
The wave crashed so hard that the parking lot attendant who had left a ticket on my windshield (I thought it was a free lot–stupid me) looked like he was going to approach my car, stopped, stared …. and then seemed to think better of it and disappeared.
Smart man.

I sat in that car and sobbed.
And sobbed.
And sobbed.
I sobbed for missing Jim.
I sobbed for the stupidity of my child.
I sobbed for doing this, all of “this”, alone.
I sobbed from the sheer exhaustion of it all.
I sobbed for the things yet to come that I’ll be doing alone.
I sobbed for all of us and the unfairness of all of “this”.

And then I started driving.
Rush hour.
In Houston.
Sobbing.
It was a long, wet drive.

By the time I made it back to my neighborhood the wave was gone.
Well, mostly gone.
I think it disappeared sometime during dinner.
Dinner with a few friends.
And two very strong and very welcomed margaritas.
No, not a magic elixir for taking away the hurt.
But a great combination for shaking off the effects of a wave.
At least it was for me.

I hope this week is going better for most of you than it is for some of us.
If not, know that the waves will pass.

And heck, you might want to try a couple of very strong margaritas.
They couldn’t hurt.