A Speed Bump.

I hate when unhappy feelings come to surface. I’ve been holding them in for too damn long now. So here’s chapter number one.

I’ve always been a ball of emotions, I’m a Scorpio for God-sake and certain things that have happened in my past have taught me to shove them down my throat into a deep crevice to a place I’m unaware of. However, every now and then they want to arise…usually when I’m in bed early and have to be up at 7 A.M.

In March of 2012, I learned that my grandpa’s cancer came back for the seventh time. In December of 2012, he would end up in the hospital…for the very last time.

He was a second father to me. Saying he was always there would be an understatement. My mom would be on the phone with him in the kitchen telling him I was sick, I’d be in the next room and after they hung up my cellphone would ring and it would be him saying, “What’s the matter with you?” He was always concerned. Always trying to help and make things better for me. I lost him on February 28, 2013, giving myself no time to mourn, because I had to graduate in 3 months. I did, and my meltdown took place the day after I walked across that stage. One day I’m in the hospital telling him that he needs to be there to see me walk…then that day comes and he’s gone, his house is gone, and his car is gone, as if he vanished into thin air. I spent his last evening on Earth holding his hand…with no idea that it would be his last. There is forever a hole in my heart. I try not to think about him sometimes, because when I do, I sob so hard, I can’t breathe.

The same month I learned of his cancer coming back, my grandmother was told she had pancreatic cancer. She wanted to refrain from telling me because she didn’t want it affecting my work. Once she told me the news, I hugged her and cried and said, “I’m sick of hearing the word cancer.” She was optimistic from the beginning, when she told me that everything would be alright, until the end, when I cried that she wouldn’t see me get married and she assured me that she would.

For the next two years I would watch this headstrong, compassionate, wonderful woman who gave me my mother, suffer and wither away to skin and bones. A woman who once baked 5 different kinds of Christmas cookies have no appetite and needed painkillers to get through the day. A woman who took me shopping for my birthday and Christmas every year until I turned 21 turned into a shell of the physically strong woman she once was. The week of March 1, 2014, my family literally waited for her to die. In a hospice center where people were being carried out to a hearse one after another. On March 7, 2014, I lost another piece of my heart. Exactly one year, one week, and one day since I buried the last piece. I’ve been lost ever since.

I know this is a little off key, but I have a point. Robin Williams recently committed suicide. The actor/comedian who each fan saw as The upbeat Genie in Aladdin or the witty Mrs. Doubtfire, one of the biggest adult kids around, hung himself because he was so depressed. I can’t even begin to explain how sad I am for the loss of him. Here’s why.

My childhood was The Genie in Aladdin and it was Mrs. Doubtfire. I remember being a kid and quoting both movies with the same enthusiasm as Robin Williams did. I remember going to Blockbuster (when it existed) and renting “Jack,” a movie he made about a boy who had a disease that made him look like an adult when he was a child. I was a child myself, but that movie made me cry, because it reminded me how special people can be.

Lately I just feel like my childhood has died, and no one should ever feel that way. I know it’s silly to mourn a person you’ve never met. But you don’t realize how a person had so much impact on a part of your life until they pass away. Until some of the joyous parts of your childhood pass away.

I have struggled with more issues than growing up with two disabled brothers. Things I don’t care to speak of. But I want people to know that I sympathize with Robin Williams because I have been in a hole that deep. I just someone managed to crawl and burn my way out of it. How, sometimes I still have no idea, and I hate that his death has made me rehash on that time in my life.

I am thankful to still be here, I am thankful for everything I have and everything I don’t, but when it comes to dwelling on the people I’ve lost…it scares the living shit out of me for my future.

I just don’t want to lose another piece of my childhood. I don’t want to be a shell of a happy character I once was.

And the scariest part about life is that no one gets out alive.


4 thoughts on “A Speed Bump.

  1. 😥
    I know it sounds clichéd but that’s why we’re told to live evey day to it’s fullest. Live like every moment could be your last and have no regrets. Do what makes you happy but never forget those who helped to make you who you are.

    Yesterday I had a cry fest about papa and it’s been 5 years. At some point, I don’t know when, it just starts to get easier. You’ll always have some sad moments. Those sad moments are important though. They show that this person’s memory is still very much so alive in your head no matter how much time has passed. That’s the only way you can continue to celebrate their life, the impact their life had on you, and honor their memory.

    And most importantly, don’t forget, that I love you!

    1. Ah thanks for making me misty eyed at work. My eyes are already burning from my cry fest last night. I was sobbing while writing this. I try to live life to its fullest, but I’m disappointed about a lot of things lately. That will be my next post. I’ve gained weight because I haven’t dealt with my grief, I thought I would have a job in my field by now. I thought that a new, happier chapter in my life would be taking place right now and it’s not. Nothing’s changed for me in the past year except losing two of the closest people to me and gaining 28lbs. You would think that would motivate me to change something, but I feel like the universe won’t let me catch a break.

      Now maybe I’m just ranting, but I appreciate the advice. I think I need to make a trip to the cemetery and cry it out over there. I do that. I let it build and build and when I do that, it relieves my pain temporarily.

      I love you very much and am grateful to have you to listen and be there for me, always.

  2. It just takes time and more time my sweet Dana, Life is tough you are the bravest and smartest young person your Uncle Jack & I know … you will be o.k. you have tremendous family and friends that love you . Thanks for writing this, it of course made me cry & realize all of the special people in my life that are now gone …. we are making it through everyday … We love you ❤

    1. Thank you Aunt JoAnne. Sometimes I forget how strong I am when I’m overcome with an excessive amount of emotion and vulnerability. It means a lot for you to say that. Words can’t explain how grateful I am to have built amazing relationships with my family members over the years. It’s never my intention to make people cry with my words, but in a way, it’s comforting to know that others can feel them. It hurts to dwell on how the special people left us, but when we find time to laugh and smile at the good memories, it’s all worth it.

      I love you and Uncle Jack very much. ❤

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