I am not brave, just tired

I probably didn’t cry enough. In the initial days because

  1. I didn’t believe G was really gone
  2. I wanted to save the baby

And while the past 10 days have been really weepy, a lot of people keep telling me that I was being really brave. I was even asked why I wasn’t crying or how can I get back to work so quickly! I was exhausted. I couldn’t cry in front of people, I would have just finished a bout of crying when a set of new people walked in, and I had by then just run out of tears. It was not that I didn’t want to cry – I honestly wanted to scream my heart out – it was just that I couldn’t.

From the time I found out about his death, there have been endless phone calls, a constant stream of people coming and going, and non stop conversation. All meant in goodwill and I am really thankful to the people who called or came and felt his loss. Add to that the sleepless nights and nightmares and it just ended up making me tired. NOT brave, just tired. And all I could focus on was doing the next thing – one thing at a time, one day at a time.

I don’t know how i’m going to deal with a moment of peace when I do get it. Perhaps all the horror of everything will just come crashing down (my counsellor is waiting for me to break down!). Perhaps I will still carry on one day at a time. Perhaps I would beg people to flood my house with conversation again. I don’t know! But I know I want those few hours to empty my head, to not pretend, or put up a ‘brave’ face. Maybe I just want to beat up my pillow or tear my curtains down.

But I know whatever it is, I have to face it on my own. And if it tires me or makes me seemingly brave – so be it!

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