I am not sure the exact point that I actively stopped grieving for my Gram. I’ve been casting my memory back, poking at everything, and the closest I have come is that it took me about 10 years to stop crying at every commercial or show or book that referenced the sadness in my heart.
She died a few days before I turned 25…or was it 26?
Now, I’m 41.
That’s sort of crazy. To type that out and then do the math. 25 to 41. I had lots of stuff in those years but a current of grief was always just under it.
About 6 or 7 years ago, I told Stuart, on Christmas Eve, that I was leaving.
And I still remember that January 13th, I was out. I had left. I had destroyed my little family and left a lot of grieving behind me. I carried all of my own grief with me though. It colored every fucking decision I made.
I’m finally, finally, trying to figure it all out now. Mikey has been so mad at me for all these years. And he’s always said, “yeah, I hate Christmas too.” I never ever even asked him why. I think I knew it’s because of what I did on Christmas Eve. And just recently, we have tentatively, very tentatively, started to really talk again.
I finally reached out to all of them and he told me that Christmas Eve is why he hates the holidays.
I knew that. And honestly, I’d have done it differently if I could. Sometimes, the time when the camel’s back breaks is not the right time to do something. Maybe, if I had the maturity and the knowledge, I could have waited just one more week.
I wonder how things would be now if I had?
I don’t know. I don’t tend to dwell on those types of thoughts too long. It really doesn’t matter.