I have the hardest time with family gatherings now. Or maybe I should say, after almost six years, I have the hardest time with family gatherings STILL. You'd think losing Cory so unexpectedly- so horrifically- would drive me to go to every family gathering, holiday or no, and milk every precious moment with my loved ones. You would think...
but human behavior is not so simple, is it? Grieving behavior even less so.
There was a Girl's Night In with my mom and sisters last night. I dreaded going. I've gotten at least to the point where I will go instead of staying home, but my anxiety about being there without Cory in tow makes every gathering painful and difficult to navigate.
We ate pizza together and started going through old pictures, most of which made us laugh until our stomachs hurt...the hairstyles, the clothing, the barely recognizable faces from decades past. I found a picture of me with my Mom when I was nine or ten years old. It was a silly Christmas snapshot- my mom modeling a leather coat she'd received and me sporting a new jogging suit. We had our arms thrown around each other and my head was thrown back in a face splitting grin. Silly, so silly! It immediately made me think of how Cory was at that age and I was pretty sure I had a pic at home of her doing almost the exact same pose for the camera. Bittersweet.
A few minutes later, we'd made it through the years to the grandkids. I was talking to someone, not paying attention really, when I suddenly came across a picture of Cory with three of her cousins as children sitting atop their uncle's back. They were all so little, one still clutching his stuffed lovey. The tears came without warning and I wanted nothing but to run out of the room, out of the house, out of my skin. Run, Run, Run! my brain said.
It is the oddest thing how much it disturbs me to see pictures of Cory as a child now that she is gone. She was my absolute delight. She was my biggest source of pride. Why would I not adore revisiting these memories of her? What is that about? I know some bereaved parents who take great comfort in their deceased child's younger pictures. It is so personal what some bereaved parents bring closer to comfort them and what others push away to lessen the pain.
It's hard to explain. When other people see pictures of her as child, I imagine they focus on the moment captured, exclaim about her looks at that age, remember something fun they did with her, and keep going. When I look at pictures of my firstborn as a child, now that she is gone, it creates this painful chain reaction. I see her little face, so innocent and trusting of her future....her eyes so bright and precocious, full of possibilities and discoveries yet to make...her narrow shoulders seeming to speak of fragility and vulnerability and then my mind short circuits immediately to the way it all ended: her eyes closed, her skull and bones broken, her future over in a millisecond. I guess that's trauma. I don't understand it; I just know that the pictures bother me horribly. I"ve purposely looked at less than a handful since the day of her visitation.
From there, the guilt that I did not protect that sweet girl and prevent her from being hurt, from getting broken, from dying far too young is vicious and inevitable. It eats me right up. I feel paralyzed to stop it. Might as well be swallowed by a python.
I considered leaving the gathering a few minutes later. I was tired anyways and my heart hurt horribly. It was no one's fault, of course, it is just what life is like now- you never know when a grief attack will strike. Instead, I decided to stay a little longer. The gang had just started playing Catch Phrase and I decided to give it a try.
Hours later, my stomach hurt from laughing. Everyone's clues and guesses seemed to get funnier as we all became more and more tired. At one point, I was describing the term "Bittersweet" for my teammates of my mom and oldest sister, Tammy, to guess. I said, "You know, it's when something is happy but also sad. Oh! Oh! And it's also a type of chocolate chip for baking."
Tammy blurted out with calm confidence, nodding ever so slightly, "Semi-sweet."
The entire room broke up laughing and in that moment I knew coming to these gatherings is important. Staying as long as I can is important. One day I will lose my dear, sweet mother and my sisters...and these are the memories I will go to in my mind to be with them again. If I'm not there to add to my memory bank...I lose out. I will have regret. Not irrational regret like not going to the store myself that day so Cory wouldn't have died (something I never could've predicted) but the rational regret of not making the most of opportunities to treasure my loved ones while I still had the chance. That I can control.
So that one day, maybe twenty years from now, when I remember last night with my loved ones and the game, CatchPhrase, a smile will come and go on my lips as I think to myself., perhaps nodding slightly..
"Semi-sweet."
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