I've been crying sporadically this week for no apparent reason.
Well, there is a reason. I've just been in denial over it. For two years now.
A couple is murdered and i sit at my desk and sob.
A fictional character dies and i have to take a break from reading so i can compose myself. That sort of thing. I'm usually much better at controlling myself.
I have the process of locking things up in tiny boxes inside and hiding those boxes in deep, dark corners down to a freakin' science. It's how i learned to cope with things in life that are impossible to handle.
It's not working this week. Possibly because it's the two year anniversary of my mother's passing. And i never really let myself cry. Just locked it all up and put it away so i could keep functioning.
Last weekend at a party a woman was bitching about her mother, complaining about how fussy she is and what a bother. I had to walk away to keep myself from grabbing her and shaking her to make her understand that someday, she won't have a mother. It's inevitable. It's coming.
I was told that the buried sorrow would eventually claw it's way to the surface and have to be dealt with. Yup. That was a truth. Now i have to function despite feeling like my heart and soul have been forcefully cracked open to free a river of tears that flows without regard to convenience. I was told it gets easier with time. That isn't true. Not this time. It gets worse.
I miss her. So much.
I wrap myself in her shawl and carry pieces of her jewelry with me to comfort myself, but there isn't any comfort to be found. I just have to wait i suppose, for the flood to ease so i can close the box lid again. Except maybe this time i won't push it into a dark corner and i won't lock it. This time i'll place it in a window sill where the sun can shine on the bright memories.
In the interim i'll function the best i can, trying to hide the sorrow.
