My Journey In Grief

The one thing I've realized in the last 26 days since my life was destroyed is just how many misconceptions surround you when you lose a loved one. Now for me, I didn't just lose someone I loved, I lost the person I love most, the person I need most, the only family I have left, and the only person I can depend on. To put it mildly, I lost my entire reason for existing at all. Of course, people being the lovely creatures that they are, cue sarcasm, they have treated me like my mother's death was meaningless. Even going so far as to say so to my face. Almost everyone I tell has decided to push their own ideas and opinions onto me of how I should handle my grief, if you listen to most I'm not doing it right. Fortunately, I've learned over the years to never listen to people, never to let them make choices for me. To never follow a crowd. This, of course, makes them angry, then it's always there's something wrong with me. Their opinions mean less than nothing to me, especially now. But their cruel words would have easily driven another person to suicide.

They couldn't understand no matter how many times I've explained to them, that I am chronically ill and have been told I don't have that much longer to live myself. That I am afraid and alone. My mom was my last family member and my medical proxy, I have no children, no husband, no siblings, no cousins. I'm the last. My mother was all I had left in this world. She was my reason for being, my reason for existing, my reason for getting up every day and trying, she was the glue that held my broken pieces together. I loved her more than my own life. I know I will see her again soon and I'm looking forward to it.

I no longer fear death, there are no attachments for me here in this world and that's okay. What's not okay is how others have treated me. They've decided for me that I have a long life ahead of me, which doesn't even make sense considering my health, I'm already supposed to be dead. I'm not going to get better. They've decided I'm going to get married and have kids. I can't have children, and I have never had an interest in being married. I've never even dated. I can't get them to understand that those things are not going to happen, they aren't meant for me. They've also decided that I'm suicidal, which I'm not, true I don't want to be in this world any longer, it doesn't mean I'm looking for ways to end it, it means I won't prolong my suffering anymore. But they bombard me with phones numbers and demands I seek professional help. The joke is on them ,I was the professional help.

They decided not even two weeks after my mother's death I should sell my house and learn to drive. The driving part I am doing, but with no one to teach me I'm very scared. I'm having to learn on my own, I have a breakdown every time, it's not exactly a safe thing either. I'm not ready, but being forced to try, as there are no buses close by. They've decided my grief will make people not like me, so I shouldn't bother them with it and pretend I'm okay, when I'm not, I will never be okay again. They've decided my grief will go away in time, it grows every day, not everyone can move on, some can't and some don't want to. I see it every day, people saying years down the road it's still just as hard. I know I'll be one of them, for whatever time I have left Everyone wants to force advice on you but not really help with the problems. They don't want to hear when I'm having an attack, I should keep that to myself. You see I have panic attacks, anxiety, depression, and PTSD. I had those before any of this happened.

I've been told and called all kinds of hurtful things. Scammer is a big one, you see we have no money, we lived on almost nothing, so I've had to ask for donations to even bury her. It's hard and upsetting, I've never liked asking anyone for money. But I do it because it's not about me, it's about what my mother would have wanted. To be buried next to her parents, my grandparents. Where we always palnned. My place is there too, right next to her.

I've done everything on my own, from the start. Having no friends or family to be there for you is hard.

I have some things left in front of me still, her burial, a headstone, and a few others before I can join her myself, but then we'll finally be together again.

So I sit in my empty house, in the deathly quiet, not seeing another human for at least a week at a time, I sob to myself and shake, my chest hurts, and I can't breathe sometimes. I hyperventilate often.

I sit and I wait, knowing I'll eventually die alone and wonder if anyone will notice I'm gone. I hope I won't suffer too much.