Last night Blaker took the kids across the street to a Super Bowl party. I stayed home because...well, frankly, because I think watching football and pretty much all sporting events are a ridiculous waste of my time, AND because I really THOUGHT I wanted some alone time (there's also the fact that I'm a total introvert who is scared to socialize with the neighbors AND the realization that I will never learn the rules of football because I JUST DON'T CARE). So I kicked back, mixed up a cosmopolitan (what's Super Bowl Sunday without a cocktail, even if you aren't watching the game) and watched a fascinating show about polygamy on A&E. Good times.
I turned sideways on the sofa and looked back at the piano, where I have three family photographs situated. A Christmas photo from 2006 of Blaker and myself with the kids. A photo of Blaker and I taken while we were in grad school. And my favorite photo of my Dad, a close-up of his profile while he's laughing, taken at my wedding.
I fell apart.
This was not some pitiful little weeping like I've been doing lately. That weeping comes up on me in the car when I'm driving down the road, or in the laundry room when I'm cleaning the lint trap. This was full-on wailing, keening, gut-shaking sobs. Fetal position screaming. I was so loud, it's a wonder that Blaker and the kids didn't hear me across the street.
I've cried a lot since Dad died. A LOT. I cried a lot before he died too. You'd think I'd be all cried out. But I haven't really collapsed like that before. I always had a kid (or two), a Mom, a husband, somebody around who I needed to hold it all in for to some extent. Not so much last night.
One thing has really become apparent to me during this whole miserable experience. I am a worrier, have always been a worrier--did I dress Bellamy warm enough for school this morning? Did I pack Blaker enough lunch? Should I really have spent $40 for that shirt?--but now, none of that stuff seems all that important any longer. It's like, I've seen the BIG PICTURE. I've seen how bad and ugly and sad things can be. The other stuff? Well, it'll fall into place. It's NOTHING. That's what everybody always told me, but only now can I actually see it. Who cares what the gas bill is when I'm living in a world where people you love can just be GONE so quickly?
Life. What a mystery.