grief, germs, heavy, & re-entry - not necessarily in that order

Is it time to wash the sheets, AGAIN?

That's where I am. Sort of. Dragging. Stuff to do makes me want to scream. Didn't I just do that? Everything feels heavy. This is not my normal mode. 

I imagine part of it is grief. I'm so grateful that I was able to attend Joe's wake and funeral on Thursday and Friday. It did my heart good to spend time with his family. We hugged and laughed and cried and told stories and got caught up. 

His wife, Gina, didn't know that my sisters and I were coming. After we talked to the family members that we ran into as we entered the wake, my sisters walked to the front of the room to pray near Joe's ashes. I was trailing them. Gina was sitting on a couch. She saw me, hopped up, and came over. We hugged it out for a long time. Sobbing. 

I told her how upset I am that I wasn't able to see him in the fall when he tried to stop in Chicago. How I always felt he was in my corner. How much I already miss him. She kept saying, "Oh, I know, I know. Oh my gosh, I can NOT believe you guys came all this way. I can't believe you're here." 

Then I whispered to her that I felt Joe would probably also appreciate the dynamics of me driving with my two sisters. Shaking with laughter, Gina said, "Yes he would. He certainly would." 

*****

I came home on Friday later than expected because we ended up staying for the luncheon. I'm so glad we did. I embraced that extra time. 

I cried myself to sleep Saturday night. I woke up Sunday morning and lay there for a few minutes thinking. A few more tears. 

There's so much that is weighing ne down:  

 What am I DOING? When Joe died, I started thinking. Why babysit, when I really just want to write my book(s) and get them published? Well, we all know why. Money. There is no guarantee that my writing efforts will lead to a paycheck. You know:  DON'T QUIT YOUR DAY JOB, etc.

Lad. When I listened to the eulogies (3 people spoke, each was amazing - a beautiful tribute to an amazing man), I thought about Lad. I wish Lad could've spent time with Joe, learning to take responsibility, to lead, to make the most of every situation. Not that he doesn't have parents that try to get through to him.

I know that this wouldn't necessarily have been a fix. We've been begging him to go see a therapist. He says he will. He is so much better than he was, but he needs help. I see all that Joe was and I want to bottle that up somehow and gift it to my kid. Joe was one of 5 brothers, and they didn't all lead the way he did - so I get it. Everyone has their strengths. 

Germs. I got home Friday night. Mini played 2 basketball games an hour from home Saturday. Followed by a team lunch. She told me after the first game that she'd thrown up before the game, but she knew she wasn't sick. Ate too early, or something. I believed her. She believed she wasn't sick.  She threw up on the bus after the team lunch and then came home and puked for hours.  

Not sure I ever mentioned here:  Reg, Coach, and Curly all had covid the week before the funeral. Mix in a stomach bug that Lad and the tots/babies had and that might paint a better picture.

 I.AM.SICK.OF.GERMS.

*****

This is Joe and his brothers
and me and my siblings
 (plus 3 parents, my mom snapping photo)
on our deck in Davenport.
 circa 1975ish. I'm the very
front with an orange shirt.
 Johnny, my best bud
 who was in the accident is next to me in
 yellow. Joe has brown hair. Wearing a
yellow t-shirt, he's standing
 in front of his dad who is holding
up my youngest brother. 

I tried to explain to Coach how heavy everything feels, but I'm not sure he gets it.   

I don't want to clean house, beg people to help clean house, do all the laundry, plan and prepare all the meals, grocery shop, babysit, pay bills, communicate with teachers, schedule ortho appointments, repeat. Not sure if this is because I'm sad, or just adding to how sad I am. 

Maybe it's all so hard right now in part because I was SO focused on getting to Minnesota. That was a good thing to be able to do, but I'm finding it hard to hop back into all the demands of life. Re-entry, if that's what we call it, is not all that easy. 

I guess after sitting in a car for hours, which sucked but it was also quiet and still and not busy, followed by lots of crying  and thinking of things I want to talk to Joe about and not being able to, and then getting home and trying to dive back into everything here, well it's rough. 

I decided when I woke up Sunday morning to make a list of the things I can control and the things I can't control. I'm hoping that helps. *Have I made that list yet? Well no, but I did do two loads of laundry and a grocery run that involved $600 worth of food.* 

The list is in my mind. I still have to sit down and write it out, but I'm hoping that it'll be therapeutic. 

*****

My youngest brother, Mike,
and my mom at said pool.

A funny from Joe's brother, Mike's eulogy:  Mike said that he'd only once heard Joe say the wrong thing. Joe ALWAYS said the right thing. The brothers were at the neighborhood pool next to their house and two doors down from our house in Davenport. There was a mom with 5 little kids there, some were Mike's age and some were younger. Joe asked this mom if she was pregnant. She wasn't. When they got home, their mom hollered at Joe:  YOU DON'T EVER ASK A WOMAN IS SHE'S PREGNANT. 

*The 'Are you pregnant' was directed at my mom.