Sunday, May 27, 2012

grief on a sunday night

As many of you know, my friend Susan was murdered this year. There is no gentle way to put it. It happened five, almost six months ago, and I am still wrapping my head around it. I refuse to delete her number from my phone. Because when I go through my contacts and see her name, I remember her.

She passes through my mind daily. Whether it's my own thoughts or someone asking me "Hey Megan, how are those kids doing?" or the gut wrenching feeling I get when I hear someone say "just shoot me". I think of her. But I have not grieved her. Not fully. I probably never will. I've cried, I've screamed, I've talked about it with people who will listen.

But tonight I did more than think about her. I felt her. That hasn't happened since she died. I was driving home from babysitting. I was having this conversation in my mind- these thoughts coming at me like rapid fire

I can't wait for Mo to have her baby. I can't wait for Maggie to have her baby. 

I wonder what I'll do when February comes along. Renew my lease? Maybe by then I'll have myself figured out.

I need to call Alicia.

What if I got in a car accident and lost my memory? (For the record, I watched the Vow last night and am currently reading What Alice Forgot, which has a similar story line).

I'm so proud of Sara for graduating. I need to send her a card.

Kroger is still open? Who goes to Kroger at 11 pm on a Sunday night?

Ugh. Why are people already out for the dream cruise?

My life is so overwhelming and yet totally underwhelming all at the same time. 

It was about here that I turned down the main road to get to my street. And this is when I felt Susan. I saw her smiling face. I heard her tell me "breathe". And right there at the red light on Adams and Lincoln, I started to cry. It was so overwhelming that the second I got into my house I ran to my laptop to write this. Why? I guess because I know a lot of people out there are grieving losses. And I want you to know, you're not alone. Sometimes you'll be sitting at a red light and start to cry because you miss that person. Be patient with yourself. We're all in this together.


furmurr said... Add Reply


I too think of Susan often. I think of her when Caroline comes to me daily for a hug. I think of her when I hear on the news that someone has been murdered, I think of her when I hear the Notre Dame fight song...I will never hear it again without thinking of her.
I feel like I am making progress in my grief only to get knocked back down in the emptiness I feel when I think of her. I will never forget Susan and I will never understand...but I will go on. That is what she wanted me to do..."I wish every second grader had the opportunity to have you as a teacher". Susan Jarrell....2011.

Shari said... Add Reply

First of all, sending you so many hugs.

You're right about the grieving process never ending. I think it's something I've always known, but didn't fully understand until we lost Gram. This coming week is a year since she slipped into the coma, and though it's a different kind of pain now, it's still there. It will probably always be there. I'm learning (well, actually - this might sound colossally absurd, but really, my characters have been teaching it to me as they heal after a loss) that it's okay to always feel it in some way. Even when the grief fades, it's still there on some level and still plays a part in shaping who we are from that point forward. Maybe that's a good thing. It means you take a piece of Susan's special heart with you wherever you go.

Hang in there <3

Anonymous said... Add Reply

I have always hated the word "closure" .. the only closure is for the media to move on to some other story. For those left behind, there is no closure. That can be good or bad. And that is all I have to say about that. Dad