Hibernating

Scott arrived home safely from his trip attending his cousin's funeral. He was both fatigued from the drive and relieved to be home. After the kids were tucked into bed he began to decompress about the experience. One of the saddest sights is watching a parent bury a child while simultaneously witnessing a child say goodbye to their parent. While I wish I could have attended to pay my respects and to support Scott, the selfish part of me is happy to have been tethered to the kids. I was frazzled, but I was spared witnessing the heartbreak. 

Hearing Scott recount the scene brought back a deluge of grief. Memories of other funerals began to flood my mind, bringing me to tears. I have managed to mask the voids left in my life, but the pain of the losses remain when I allow myself to reflect. Perhaps this is another benefit of my go-to coping mechanism, avoidance.

The descriptions of the services and the family left a deep impact. I'm feeling off today, both deflated and strangely panicked. I am fighting the urge to hide from the world, but my work obligations and kids won't allow me to hibernate. Instead I'm going to try to push through my mood and hope that happiness will emerge.