I have been through these five stages several times this year. In fact, I think I spent the entire year in these stages.
My grandfather passed away in February, but you know what? With him, we knew it was coming. The denial, bargaining, anger– that all happened while he was still alive.
“No, he’s pretty healthy for 85! Maybe you should get a second opinion!”
“Well, yeah, but if this doctor does this, then it should be fine.”
“Why am I demanding you take him to a doctor? I get he’s ready, but SEE A DIFFERENT DOCTOR! Why am I being selfish? Because I don’t want to lose the last living grandparent I have, THAT’S WHY I AM BEING FUCKING SELFISH!”
Once he passed, the depression set in, and to be honest, I still have my days where I see or hear something that reminds me of him, and I tend to tear up.
Then there was Jackass Whorinova and what he did, including the stealing from me bit (I know I seem like I am not over this, but I promise you, I am. I don’t care about what happens to him. If I passed him on the street, I’d not even look up. What I do care about is my money. Everybody cares about money, and if it’s stolen, you want it back. And if there is an easy way to get it that requires filing police reports and sending his name off to an embassy, then you’ll do it, and not feel remotely bad about it because it’s money. It is the root of all evil, clearly. He used a person for money, and I may very well ruin a couple of lives to get that money back. I should care more, but I don’t. I am dead inside. 🙂 )
Then the worst death of somebody who “we” were all very close to. Our “Mohican.” It destroyed me just as much as her. I still wish to not speak much of it, because it is not wise to speak of the dead. It’s an old “tradition” where you cannot speak much of them, or say their name too much because they won’t “pass on” to “the other side.”
Just know we miss him terribly. She misses him the most. I find it odd that wedding bells are ringing, yet nobody seems too thrilled about it. In a way, it’s like watching a brother and sister become roommates. There is a love there, but it is not that type of love. It is merely fulfilling a promise, and she is doing it because that’s what he would have wanted, and this man is her last connection to the man she had.
When it comes to him, I’m not sure we will ever move past the depression stage. Perhaps this marriage counts as acceptance. I fear it will be a long time before any of us could possibly know the answer to that.
This year has left visible, permanent “scars” on all of us.
Myself? From all the crying I have done, I have large bags under my eyes that will not go away, even when I sleep well. (Are there any make-up pros, or beauty bloggers out there that could tell me how to conceal them, or perhaps give me some insight on the absolute best product to help minimize them? Please? Please?) They make me look much older and tired. I look weary, and it has affected my confidence. (I haven’t taken a selfie IN MONTHS. I’m a girl! We love selfies!) And not to be rude to “her” but she doesn’t look much better. We all have the bags under our eyes. The light in our eyes– it’s dimmed quite a bit. Sometimes I look at us and feel that we are stuck, just going through the motions of day to day life, and none of us really knowing what for. It’s like we are waiting for something to spark that life back inside of us. We want to live. We just need help getting excited about it.
Don’t take this as we are depressed. Truly, we aren’t. It’s just a rut. Everybody has ruts. Only this rut has been the length of an entire year. I hope, I pray that next year is better. I believe, if you ask me, that the gods have toyed with us long enough. We have suffered enough and I am about ready to slaughter the neighbor’s cow and toss it onto a burning pyre to get some good luck for next year.
However, ruts are a part of life, and we really should try to be more prepared for them, but sometimes, there’s not much you can do to prepare.
To make matters worse, my least favorite holiday, Christmas is coming up. Oh let me tell you how much I hate Christmas.
I. FUCKING. HATE. IT.
I hate it because people have lost sight of what’s important about it. Used to, it was all about getting to see your family that you don’t get to see much, but here lately, it’s about nothing but who gets the best presents, who spent the most money, etc.
I know some people who will spend their bill money to purchase gifts and they always ask me to borrow come January.
Christmas is the same time every year. Plan accordingly OR buy cheaper shit. I don’t understand the mentality of “Oh, we have to buy expensive things for every single person we know!” I never will.
Because this January, don’t you dare ask me to loan you money. You can just sit there in the dark, clutching your eviction notice. I have tried explaining repeatedly why you should set a price limit, and a who gets what limit. You never listen! Just don’t buy people shit if you can’t afford it. If they get mad, fuck them. You don’t need that in your life! You don’t need a person who cares ONLY about the gift as opposed to you showed up to see them.
So don’t do it. The bank of J. Theberge is closed this January.
Remember, I’m dead inside.
I do have a kerosene heater you could borrow if it gets too cold in your dark house.