Death · TV

My Neighbor

I had a lot of fears, fear of flying, spiders (all bugs honestly), germs, dirt, the unknown and the list would go on and on. It would honestly take me two pages to list all the stuff I was afraid of happening. When I got married and became a mom, I took on more fears. The fear of my child dying or my spouse or even worse, both. It wasn’t until I nearly died that I realized that having fear was a waste of time.

Today, I watched the episode of Glee from last night. I had to DVR it, I know I wouldn’t be able to sit through it and would have to take it in pieces. When it became too much, I could turn it off, go back to living and return to it later. It wasn’t because I was obsessed with the show or with the actor that passed away. It was because I know grief, it’s the neighbor that always comes to visit when you don’t feel like company.
Things like this always bring it back up. To the foreground, when you try so hard to pack it away. As I watched the show, I identified with Santana’s anger. It never goes away. You come to some sort of agreement with the universe that you’ll stop raging at the fates if they just make emptiness go away. It occurred to me as I watched Finn’s mom that the fear of having your child die isn’t the nightmare. The nightmare is having to watch your other children grieve, know the hurt that they are suffering and be powerless to take it away, to make it better.
After the show was over, I thought how life would go on for the characters. Every now again there might be a passing mention of him, maybe not. It’s not how it is in real life. You can get rid of the things, the pictures and never go back home. But like I said, grief is the neighbor that always rings your doorbell when you just want to be left alone. Sometimes, you invite it in, like I did today. Other times, I close the curtains, turn out the lights and pretend I’m not home.

For Cory and all the people we grieve. The Day The Music Died By Don Mclean.

 

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