When I read that I immediately fell back in time to the day my mom was killed. From the moment after I hung up after the first phone call from the police, until, oh, about 10 months later, I was so busy, I hardly had time for tears.
That sounds horrible doesn’t it? I did say, hardly… I DID cry, but it was quick, intermittent shots of; on-the-floor, gasping-for-breath, loosing-yourself, in pain-wrenching-grief. I had only enough time to release those tears for a few minutes before I had to suck it back up, straighten myself up, and step back out to do the tasks at hand. There were also the nights after everyone was asleep and I lay there with nothing to do, except think about the loss… They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger… the next 10 months gave me super strength.
The day of the news I had to talk to everyone. I had to keep myself somewhat collected to tell them the facts. I had no time for grief because the phone simply wouldn’t stop ringing. When I hung up from one call, I took a deep breath, tried to recall my mothers face in my head, tried to see her smile, tried to find her spirit, and then the phone would ring again.
The days leading up to ‘his’ arrest were filled with evidence gathering, fact finding, pleas and requests and quite a bit of confusion. No time for tears, that’s when the anger and determination kicked in.
Going through the possessions seems like the perfect time to cry… not when you are on a rushed deadline to get everything sold, packed and moved. With no time for reminiscing there was no time for tears, just stay busy, focused.
Final preparations, a time when you pick the coffin, headstone, write the obituary, the eulogy, gather everyone together, no time to cry then… of course the memorial service allowed for some time but knowing I wanted to be cognitive enough to read the eulogy I wrote; I kept it together.
Finally time to cry? Nope.
Regular life led to regular monthly duties like bills, a time limit to empty the storage facility, collections to sell, daily work to focus on.
The trial came next and you’d think you could cry then, but not if you wanted to stay in the courtroom. You couldn’t make the jury partial. I wanted to hear everything, so I had to keep cool.
It was literally 10 months after when there was nothing left to do, when I actually had the time to cry… but by then the grieving period was over. I had moved on with my life. Not that you can ever move on from the loss of a parent… but somehow, hours turned to days, days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months and months turned to years… I made it through and I am a better, more spiritual, more understanding and compassionate person for it.
I look back at that quote above:
“The busy have no time for tears.”
It’s sad really…
…almost makes me want to cry.