Be easy… please.

Allow yourself to rest. Your soul speaks to you in the quiet moments between your thoughts.

~Unknown

My Grandma died last Monday evening. My daughter graduated the Friday before. I’m spent. My assignment this week was to research and blog about an “emotional hangover”. I learned that I definitely had one on Tuesday and I have one again today. Who knew? I had never even heard of this term before. Its definitely been a long time since I’ve had a “traditional” hangover. I don’t like the loss of control while drinking. I like puking even less. I am also a type A and I hate when something gets in the way of productivity. I know my alcohol threshold well. I clearly do not know my emotional threshold very well. But I’m learning.

Long blog posts suck. I never read them myself. But I can understand why its so hard to “tighten it up”. Its hard to tell a story in just a few words.

Back to Tuesday, the day after Grandma passed away. I could barely get off the couch. My Mom had been staying with us for close to eight weeks. Eight whole covid weeks ago, she got a call that my Grandma was palliative. At that time, they thought she only had a couple days. A couple days turned into almost eight weeks. As hard as those weeks were, I’m beyond grateful for them. Due to the low covid-19 risk here, I along with my Mom and one of my Uncle’s, was able to visit my dying Grandmother. I was very close with my Grandparents. I was shocked at my emotions. I had so many people say, even when you know death is coming, it is still so hard when it comes. I had no idea I would react and feel the way I have been. I haven’t cried as much in these past few days as I have in the past five years.

I also treasure the time I got to spend with my Mom. I forced her into a walk every morning, which eventually just became routine. Charlie got fed tons of people food from “Baba” – the name that my girls call my Mom – Ukrainian grandma.

My daughter Jillienne was beautiful on what should have been prom. The covid-19 grad party I planned six weeks prior went off without a hitch. Except the fucking monsoon wind. My photo-booth back-drop balloons popped. My amazon decorations that showed up the morning of – all got tangled. But Jillienne was happy. I on the other hand, had an underlying sense of sadness the entire day. A sadness of what she was missing. Maybe, what I was missing. Seventeen years. A girl who has fought a lot of battles, she made it. We made it. The celebration for me was very anti-climactic.

Back to Tuesday. I couldn’t believe how my Mom, who had literally had 5 hours of sleep in the past 48 got up and got shit done. She had to go meet my Uncle to pack up the few things left at the home where my Grandma had been residing the past few years. After that, meet with the funeral home and deal with all of that end of life stuff that you don’t really think about. Meanwhile, I transferred myself from couch to my bed and back to my couch. My body ached, my head felt like it had been put in a vice and the fatigue was unbeatable. I didn’t even go for a walk that day.

Thursday, I left to the lake – where my parents now live permanently. My youngest daughter is working here at an amazing little restaurant again this summer – The Black Salt Cafe. It is the first time since the first weekend in March I have left city limits. Although only a couple hours away, the change of scenery has been amazing. This is where we spend our summers. Although, it feels completely different right now.

My graduate decided she wanted to work at home this summer. I pouted a lot about that. I actually still haven’t fully accepted it. Grace still loves to be here and is making great money and has the best stories every day she gets home.

I love to bike and run here. Especially bike. However, my performance has gone to shit. I was beating myself up so badly over how slow I have been going. I said to my husband, “I may as well quit – I am a fucking failure.” I also commented to my Mom about my less than stellar performance. She said, “do you not realize what you have been through these past few months? Your body is tired, your emotions are exhausted.” Why are Mom’s right even when you are in your 40s?

Today, I cycled and told myself to go easy. It was a battle the entire ride. I kept forcing myself to enjoy the air, the road, the scenery and just to forget about the computer and the stats showing me that I was riding at a pace of a horse walking through a river of molasses. For the entire, short, piddly ass 32km ride I kept repeating to myself, “Be easy, you’ve been through a storm. A long, fucking, drawn-out tsunami. Be easy. Please… just be easy.”