Monday 19 August 2013

The tears are coming

I think you have to pay for love with bitter tears.

I cried tonight.  What,your daughter's died and you think that this is news?  Isn't it more like news if you haven't cried?

I've no idea really; but I see the point.  I don't find crying easy. The worry is, I think, that if I start I really may never stop.   Has anyone ever run out of tears?  Is it possible? Will I be rushed to hospital (just for the record don't anyone dare take me to one of those places. I'm seriously done with them). But what will they do if I run out of water because I've just cried the biggest, roundest tears that I've ever seen.

I think they've been waiting; these tears.  Waiting to feel safe so they could creep out and try and drown me whilst I wasn't watching.  Revenge of the locked up tears - that would be about right.  Crafty little buggers. Maybe God hasn't quite finished with me yet.   I'd held them back for so long they're taken their revenge big time - they're huge!  they are really salty! they burn my cheek, make my eye sockets swell up to the size of tennis balls and my eyes have totally disappeared.  I can hardly see, my throat is so swollen I can't swallow or talk and my nose so bunged I have no effective way of taking that breath.  I now look so hideous that I dare not leave the house.  Room arrest - that's all I have left.  Life just gets better and better.

And then later - a few hours later - the tears gradually stop and I'm overwhelmed with a deep sense of exhaustion.  I could sleep for weeks and weeks.

I read later that this is what grief does.  It floods out your system with these wonderful little pearls of water that help you to open your soul and let the gentle salty water wash a little of the pain away.  Feels hideous at the time; a little tiny bit better after. 

Tears probably are a good thing.

The reason for my tears is the loss of one of the two best things in my life.  The person who inhabited half of my heart.  A pain too hard for most people to contemplate.  And me, such an ordinary being, having to deal with the full tsunami.  If only I were a super hero - or one of those amazing brave selfless people who die jumping into rivers to save another person's child.  Sadly I am just ordinary and the grief, I'm really sorry to report, fastens its grip.  The shock slowly recedes and was is left is a open wound bleeding profusely and you can feel very drop of blood.  Can I cope with this next stage?  I hope so; but it's very very hard.

Today my grief was sparked by the death of Darah.  I've never met Darah, she lives in the states.  But I follow her story and talk to her Mum.  She reminded me of Chloe. I think she was the same age.  And, like Clo, she was so beautiful and so spirited.  She fought and fought - but lost in the end.  Her family will now walk my path and this is what really hurts me.  Somebody else in this unique kind of hell.  I'm so sorry for this.

I'll try and cheer up tomorrow.xx

1 comment:

  1. Hi Debbie, I was just reading your blog about crying and it reminded me of the time I found out my 16 month year old daughter had a rare form of cancer. I cried so much that my eyes couldn't open the next day and no more tears would come out. I looked like I had been in the boxing ring! My daughter passed away in May, aged 2 and a half and I too write a blog about my grief and how I get through each day. I don't think life can throw anything much worse at you, but I try to be positive knowing that my daughter would want me to live my life to the full. My thoughts are with you. X