"Are we really here?"

The grief process is so cut throat and unbending and yet it is also very confusing and jarring and cloudy and turbulent. For many who know me, I find myself currently trying to label and analyze where exactly I am or should be on the grief roller-coaster. I am not sure what this grief journey should appear to be like. I am concerned that I am grieving correctly? The reads odd...but am kinda being honest...Do I feel when the the next phase of grief comes in...Am I doing everything I am supposed to be doing because I sure as hell don't want to come back to this once I have moved forward.

Thank God I have Justin, family, and friends reaching out to just keep me on course. There are times when I just sit there and feel completely cloudy and unfocused. There are moments where I feel so much better. I catch myself and Justin is able to be my rock. He is my voice of reason. It's in those questioning moments that he tells me it is okay. Stop psychoanalyzing what you THINK you should be doing or questioning where you should be and just continue to roll with it...Reminding myself to just keep breathing and then I laugh. There were moments back in April when I would be with Mom and I just had to calmly remind her to breathe. Getting her to focus on just breathing and getting her oxygen levels back up where they needed to be. And I calm. And I cry. And I smile. And it is okay.

I naively would think when I was little and experienced the death of my first grandparent and would think...this is horrible... I watched both of my parents go through this horrific experience and kept thinking about the inevitable and thought, "Surely this will not be on my radar until MUCH later. MUCH MUCH later. " Back in April, when we had the first scare down in Florida, Justin and I had a lengthy 16 hour drive down and I just kept thinking, "Are we really here? Is this really happening? How could life have flown by this quickly to this particular moment? Are we really here this quickly?"

Thankfully Mom rebounded and we were able to have some very important conversations about her wishes, her wants, her thoughts on what she wanted in regards to her Celebration Memorial. Those moments were so valuable and so life changing for me. It became about being brave and grown up and trying very hard to navigate my way through this very adult conversation because it was extremely important to me that her wishes be carried out...But that little phrase continued to chip away in the back of my mind...Are we really here at this moment?

The final weeks were very back and forth. I spoke more with Steve than I did with Mom. But I was always grateful when he would put me on speaker phone to just say GOOD Morning...or I love you...and she would always respond back with I love you too, Son. I can hear her voice right before going to bed...and I catch myself thinking once again "Are we really here at this moment? Am I really experiencing this? Where did that time go?"

The LONG DRIVE up to Fargo this phrase played over and over in my mind...
Would I be able to be brave enough when I finally saw her there in the hospital bed? Would she be able to hear me?  Feel my presence? When I finally got there and was able to get close to her, the phrase was screaming in my head...and I knew that I needed to tell force everything out of my head and just tell her everything that I felt was important in that very moment. She had hung on and waited for me to get there and it was important that she know that I loved her very much, that we had shared such a HUGE adventure together, and that she had folks waiting for her to usher over to her next adventure. I kept whispering to her, "Its okay to go, Momma. Its ok." And she slipped away...

And through the tears, I felt her slip away. I watched her breathing stop and I could not let go. I continued to stroke her hair. I continued to massage her shoulder. I continued to think ,"It's OK" as if her presence was still in the room. I stayed after everyone left and just held on to her arm and just kept thinking, "Holy shit, my greatest fears have all just come true. I have lost a parent and she is right here with me and these are the final moments." I just cried and cried and cried.

I am weeks out and am still thinking, " Did this all really happen?" I just have this overwhelming urge to pick up the phone and call her to tell her about my day. The usual daily event sharing. To hear her voice. To hear I love you, Son. And then I can go about my day.

And then the truth smacks me and I fell the phrase all over again...

Surely this will pass...
Or get better...
Or not but different...

I hope so. Cause this sucks...