I've been stuck.
Stuck in the sense that I don't know what to say about my Grandpa passing. How do you sum up that kind of thing? The profound and the mundane have wacked into each other and I don't know what belongs where anymore.
Life continues, even if I'm not ready yet. Grandpa passed on a Tuesday. On Thursday I volunteered at my daughter's end of year party at school. All that chaos and laughing and fun, and then I would remember that two days ago my Grandpa passed. How frustrating and yet comforting that time stops for no one. Hours pass. Days pass.
It's been three weeks. And yet it seems a lifetime ago.
And so here I am. Stuck. Not exactly knowing what to do with my experience - so many people don't want to hear the sad stuff. Sometimes I would start to talk about what it was like, witnessing the death of my Grandpa, and would be met with - "Oh stop. You'll make me cry." or I'd shut down, feel like I overshared, or that it was too deep to respond to a "so, how are you doing?" kind of question. Much easier to answer with the typical "oh - we're doing ok. At least he didn't suffer long. The outcome wasn't what I would have wanted, but given that we were going to travel that road, I'm glad it wasn't a long road." All true, but just scratches the surface. Finding the space and time to sit in the grief and ugliness of death has been tough. Such an intimate and overwhelming place to be.
So here I sit. Stuck. Wanting to move forward, and yet not knowing what to do with Grandpa. The funeral isn't even until the 25th of this month - there's quite the wait at Arlington Cemetary.
I will write about Grandpa. I will create space for closure.
Just not today.