The result of all this? Adrenaline. The purpose of adrenaline? It masks what I am feeling in the moment. Heaviest heart like a crater. A malaise in my chest like a July heat wave. A helplessness that causes me to wave a white flag and give into the inevitable, the ridiculous truth of life and the fact that my dad may not live longer than a few months and that there is a real risk of that. We hear there are phases to grief, and I believe there are phases to anticipatory grief as well. A phase I call - sleeve rolling phase. I challenge myself when I get that way, if I’m even aware that I’m in that space - and I quiet it down and I ask myself, “what don’t you want to feel?” I roll down my sleeves and do nothing for a while, and sit closer to the feelings. There they are, and it’s just fine. Because the sadness is normal. Normal. The sadness is necessary. The sadness just is. I know I have to go through this. I want to be present for it.
