Day 61: Compared to Then I'm Emotionally Healthy; I Know, Hard to Believe

At two different points today I found myself in discussions regarding the death of a parent and in both of them, the primary topic wasn't the death, but the emotional turbulence one faces in the months and even years after. There is a window of time in which those of us who have lost a parent while still young -- and by young I mean under 35 or so -- are sort of trapped in an emotional limbo. You feel grief, of course, but also this pervasive sense of "now what." We're the kids. We don't make the real family decisions. We don't send the cards or help to facilitate the family grapevine. We still need someone to tell when we're sick (even if it is a self-induced hangover) that will feel bad for us, or will give us financial or relationship advice.

Losting a parent younger than say 17 or 18 is very different in its own right, just as losing one post 30's. But that window of 17-35ish is unique. We're adults, but still floundering a bit; still relying on Mom and/or Dad. What this means is that in those months immediately proceeding the death our decisions will be based on emotion alone and largely on false or artificial emotions. In reality we're numb, but because of the rawness, we feel like we are extra emotional. We feel things more intensely we think and we're liable to follow that false sense of emotional need right into ill-time relationships or even break-ups.

After my Mom died I got involved with an alcoholic artist who carries an almost suspicious resemblance to the Jacksonville Jaguars coach Jack del Rio. Given that, we'll call art boy "Jack." I met him just three weeks after my Mother died and only two weeks into my move to New York City. Not yet completely caught on to the rule of not talking to people on the subway, I struck up a conversation with him on the L line into Brooklyn. Within a month we were living together.

Flash forward 18 months and I realized that not only was I not in love with him, but that I was never actually in love with him. It didn't hurt that he drank too much, shoved me occasionally, possibly cheated and began to smoke behind my back. He was a good artist though, but I knew it was over when I discovered he was cheating and I felt more relief than hurt. I also paid off most of his 10K in bills and spent a tidy sum of my own online shopping at night when I was afraid to sleep.

I say afraid because when the insomnia didn't keep me up, the fear that I would have nightmares about Mom would. So I shopped, because as long as you have new shoes, books, and clothes you're never truly alone. But I was. It might have been the most social time of my life, but I was hurt, angry and lost. None of which I actually admitted to or showed. Instead I was angry, bitter and negative. I pushed people away before I could get hurt again. Jack was my life vest in some ways. He gave me a safe place to rest emotionally, because the truth was, I couldn't feel anything but sadness. Funny thing about death and denial is that sometimes, even when we think we've accepted it, the denial takes root in a different form. Jack was my denial, as was online shopping at 2am. They kept my hands and mind busy and gave me a neutral front so I appeared normal emotionally. Underneath I was kind of dead.

After a while, we get older and we learn how to cope, but much like the weekend Dad who mentally stops allowing their children to age, seeing them forever as the age they were when the family broke apart, I still feel like that 27 year-old girl. I still see my brother as that temperamental kid. In many ways, our parents mark the passing of time in our own lives. They remind us what we need to take care of in terms of family business, they host the holiday celebrations, they never forget our birthday. Parents are our lifeline to . . . well, life. They teach us how to live. When they die before we're old enough to have already made most of our life mistakes we tend to look for our emotional lighthouse. We don't know where we are going necessarily, we just need help to steer around the rocks.