We are not masters of grief.
We may wish to be. We may try to be. We may do everything we can, go every which way, in an attempt TO master it.
But we aren’t.
That’s my rephrasing/phrasing of what I heard (just one thing of many) at the grief group tonight.
But it also sparked another thought/memory/SOMEthing for me: Raistlin Majere.
Raistlin is a fictional character, from the DRAGONLANCE books. Between this year’s new Dragons of Fate, and revisiting Dragons of Winter Night at present (I’m a bit over halfway through this time) it’s been brining back some interesting memories and such from my younger days, back in high school, when I first got into Dragonlance.
And one of the things about Raistlin was that he became known as the “Master of Past and Present.”
Yet we don’t get to be Master of Grief.
It’s also September 18th, as I type tonight.
It’s been one month since Chloe. August 18th was that most horrible day since losing Dad, losing her.
And while I’ve had a few tears well up a couple times…this past month has been full of me TRYING to be that Master of Grief, in AVOIDING it. In trying to NOT FEEL this loss. To not let it in. I have not–really–cried since that morning. I haven’t allowed myself. Whether it’s burying myself in binge-watching stuff on Youtube, or the last couple weeks of CSI Miami, or working, or having an audiobook on either for primary listening or background noise…
Here it is.
A month.
Still not ready to let this loss in.
I know she’s gone. I’m aware of that. I’ve made a bunch of changes to my physical surroundings, even where/how I sleep, adjusting for knowing she’s gone.
As I begin to settle in with the comfort that we got Sarahcat to and through the vet…that she does NOT have some massive kidney issue (I’d been terrified of the vet doing the physical checkup and there being some immediate realization of something being VERY BAD, the way it happened with Ziggy nearly 6 years ago). Blood work also came in without any surprises or points of significant concern from the vet…just to bring Sarah back in in a couple months to follow up and verify numbers…as I begin to settle in with this, I see where I may “have more room” soon TO “allow myself” to moreso FEEL Chloe’s loss, if I’m NOT looking at also losing Sarah, too.
This week–Wednesday night into Thursday–is going to be 90 weeks since losing Dad. NEXT WEEK Friday into Saturday (29th into 30th) will be 21 MONTHS.
Time passes.
Life goes on.
Master the grief?
I live with it. And that’s that.
The Life of Walt 