When my dad passed on, I got through his last hospital stay, his last day with us, his death, and the funeral relatively unscathed. Amazing what the human mind and body can do when one sets her mind to a task. People who watched from the outside were amazed at how well I did, how strong I was.
One friend, though, had the courage to pull me aside and ask, "So you are taking care of everyone else, and you are doing a great job. When are you going to crash?" In three weeks, I told him. He said he would be there. I don't know if he was prepared for how bad the crash was, but I wasn't.
I expected to cry, to miss my dad. I knew I'd pick up the phone to dial his number only to remember he wouldn't pick up. I knew I'd go home and his chair would be empty, and I knew I would choke and my heart would miss a beat or two.
I also expected when the funeral was done and all the activitiy was finished, I'd go home, have a long sleep, and jumpr right back into life where normal had left off. That was one of the greatest delusions of my whole life. I knew "normal life" no longer existed, but I didn't realize the "normal me" didn't either. I couldn't make it exist. I couldn't make me exist, not like I had been, and the harder I tried to do so, the worse things became.
Last week we buried my mom after a wild two months of doctor's visits, hospital stays, and emergency issues. The flurry of activity is over, but life won't go back to normal. It can't. I'm not "normal" either, not the normal I was. I never will be that person again, and instead of fighting that, I'm working with it, not letting it control, but letting it lead some. And I am giving myself grace and time.
These posts are my journey into the adjustment of my mom being gone and life moving on. Hope it encourages you to embrace life moving on, too.