Living in a Fog of Grief

(The post below was written on February 7, 2020. My mom passed on April 4, 2020.)

I’ve been living in a fog of grief.

Every day is hazier than the day before.

I have been feeling so isolated, so disconnected from the rest of the world.

Everyone is out there living life, going places, doing things.

I’ve mostly been mindlessly driving to my parents’ house and back, except for the few days a week I take off to do laundry and go to the grocery store.

When I’m picking out bananas, I want to grab the person next to me, shake them, and scream, “My mom is dying!”

The other day I was picking out flowers for my mom and a woman started talking to me about how beautiful all of the flowers are, but they’re so expensive.

I wanted to tell her that you can’t put a price on flowers for your dying mother.

When I actually make it to the gym, the person at the front desk always says, “Good morning. How’s it going?”

I want to say, “Not good. My mom is dying in a hospital bed in her living room.”

But I don’t. I simply lie and say, “Good, thanks. How are you?”

Why do we do that?

We do we lie through the fog of grief?

Why don’t we wear our grief like a badge of honor for all the shit we’ve been through?

Would it make any difference? Would we be kinder and gentler to one another?

Even when I’m talking to someone who clearly knows my mom is dying, but doesn’t even bother to mention her, why do I have to pretend like that’s ok? Why do I have to pretend like she’s not dying, like it’s not the only thing I’m thinking about?

When you are in a fog of grief like I am now, nothing else matters. Everything seems so unimportant, so insignificant.

Why should I have to pretend to care?

As much as I look forward to the day when this fog will lift, I also dread it because I know what it means. A world without my mom. How could there ever be such a thing?

I can’t even begin to think about that day.

For now, I will continue feeling my way through the fog, feeling my way through life. And if you are here in the fog with me, find me. Take my hand. We will get through it together.

A fog of grief.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s