“But you gotta realize, that soon the fog will clear up…”
The action of declaring something to be untrue. Not that it “isn’t true” just that you simply don’t believe it for yourself. Denial. The mind protecting itself. If I say it enough, it is to be true. If I don’t look it in the face, it doesn’t exist.
I remember walking into the viewing, I wouldn’t even look at the screen, showing the faces of the ones that have passed, directing visitors to the room they needed to go to, and have their final moments with their loved ones. Silence in my head, knot in my throat, my children hitched to my anchor in the hallway.
God bless the sisters of the grieving.
The 7 long days are hard to remember now, but this moment, so clear, undeniable.
12 steps from the doorway to the casket, the butterflies in my stomach were frolicking about, so fast, it was rumbling. My heart, racing again. My eyes met his, closed and peaceful, I had not seen his face since June. The same peaceful look, somber, what I had prayed most for him. I just didn’t believe it would be like this.
It couldn’t be like this.
He was dressed so nice, the clock stopped, I got lost, slowly towards his hand. This was it. Undeniable. The scar from the day that broke the floodgates, the day I knew a could no long subject myself or my children to the chaos and heartache of active addiction.
See just 1 year and 2 months prior I moved out of our home to a tiny 2 bedroom apartment with my girls. Days after Keethan was in an accident he could have very well died in. I made up my mind that was the last scare, it was the last time alcohol would wreak havoc on our lives. He had a cut on his hand so deep I could see the white tissue.
The moment I knew this wasn’t a dream. No one was going to wake me up. That knot in my throat was swelling again. A deep inhale, and a burst of tears, no, sobbing.
For the entire time, when I had a moment to wipe my face I brought myself back to his side. Disbelief tried to settle back in, but it was too late I had seen what I needed to prove all doubt. I sat there at the end of the casket until they made me leave.
The denial had ended, and there I sat. The darkest hours were upon my spirit and heart. This was only going to get harder. Why wouldn’t the clock stop again? Why was everyone just going along like this is how things were supposed to go?
Karissa, there’s no denying, this is the nature of the beast. This is the process. The swift closure of denial, with more darkness to come.