Today’s truth came uninvited, at the wrong time, on the wrong day for everything.
(not that there is ever a ‘right’ time)
I tweeted this, and it is pretty much today’s truth in <140:
I think one of the hardest things about getting older is knowing that you will have to endure the loss of loved elders. Guaranteed pain.
— Adrienne Michetti (@amichetti) March 4, 2013
I hate this about getting older. Hate it. I hate knowing that I will have to see more and more people I love leave me as they pass onto “the next level,” as my mum called it tonight.
(the next level… like it’s a game and we’re all just trying to get there… except in this game, you don’t even have to try, as it’s inevitable you will get there.)
When I was a child, I dealt with death differently. As an adult, the loved ones who have left me have left big gaping HOLES in my life. I find it more and more difficult each time this happens — so much so that I can’t think about it too much, lest I start to think I won’t be able to handle the next one. Really. This terrifies me.
I do wonder if the reason why the deaths of others affects me more now than it did when I was a child is because now I am an adult with a very rich history which includes mountains of memories of those people who are now leaving, passing, moving on. The amount of memories I have now is double what it was 19 years ago. That is a LOT of freaking memories. And it pains and hurts me to think that the longer I am alive, the more memories I will have with people I love, and therefore the harder it will be to endure the inevitable pain that will envelope me when their time comes to pass. The mere thought of this is almost debilitating… I cannot think about it for more than a second or two or I start to fall apart. How will I handle this? Really. Really really really this thought stops me in my tracks and breaks me down.
I realize it’s a morbid thought, but this is how my brain works, I guess. It keeps getting harder, not easier, this saying goodbye stuff. I don’t want to think about how hard it is going to be when it happens again… and again…
… because I know it’s not over yet. It is inevitable. It is not over yet. It’s not over for a long time. Not until it’s actually my turn, right?
… and I intend on being here for as long as I can, as I’ve said before. So … I suppose this is simply the penance I pay for all those birthdays… right?
I’m earning my birthdays by practicing reslience.
You might say it’s a fair trade, but it’s a lot harder than it looks.
