After coffee, I had two stops to make. The cemetery to see dad's name on the niche for the first time and then to Chase Bank in Arlington to open mom and dad's safe deposit box. Arlington is a drive and combined with the emotions of it all, it took a lot to muster up the strength to will myself to go forward.
But I did it. I drove. It was gorgeous out today. When I got to the cemetery, I stopped at the end of the pathway that leads to their niche, I took in the beauty of this place that has always brought me a sense of comfort. And I took this picture.
And then I walked.
As I got closer and closer, I could see both names and soon dad's became clear. As I reached their niche, I put my hands on his name and dropped to my knees and sobbed.
{In the interest of full transparency, I just walked away from my computer after typing the above sentence and poured myself a glass of wine while the tears started flowing again.}
So many emotions flooded me at that moment. Seeing how fresh my dad's name was and how much mom's has faded over the past 6 1/2 years was profound for me. It made me sad. And then I sat there and looked at those two names together and a surprising wave of peace washed over me. They're together again. Things are complete. Final. Closure. They're both gone. I'm parent-less. And in some ways, it's still shocking. And in others, there is a pure sense of peace. I expected the hurt. I expected the tears. I didn't expect the peace. It was a welcome surprise.
I stayed for a bit and then headed north to Arlington to the Chase Bank branch where they have the safe deposit box. It's pretty much the last thing I need to do on my to-do list since dad died. But I've been putting it off. I haven't been to Arlington since we sold my dad's house in August of 2013. The drive up contained waves of emotion. I decided at the last minute to swing by their old house just to see how it's doing.
So, then on to the bank. Although, I have wanted to get this last thing done and NEED to get it done to move forward, it's still the LAST thing. All that's left to do after that is grieve. But I'm ready to grieve. I NEED to grieve. So I was ready to get this all done. I had called the bank to make sure I had everything I needed so I was expecting a pretty easy, albeit, potentially emotional process. I don't think there's anything in that safe deposit box of any significance. I'm just expecting a marriage license or social security cards or something like that. Michael and I joked that there might just be a lot of gum (in case of the apocalypse ;) ).
Notice, I say that I still don't know what's in that box? Because I don't. Because they wouldn't let me in. Even after explaining that I spoke to someone who told me what to bring. I had a death certificate, dad's will, a small estate affidavit, BOTH keys, a bank statement and my ID. What I didn't have was mom's death certificate. And Chase's corporate legal department would NOT budge on that, even though dad's death certificate states "widowed". The gal at the branch did go to bat for me. I will say that. But she has a job to do and she knew there was no use arguing with corporate. So, there I sat, at almost 47 years old, and completely raw. And I started to cry. The tears wouldn't stop. The gal at the desk grabbed me kleenex and told me to sit and cry as long as I wanted. So I did. And then I thanked her, told her quite loudly that I cannot stand Chase bank (just to make myself be heard), packed up all my papers, and went and sat in my car and let the tears flow.
There's no way to make it pretty. I was a wreck. It felt like months of grief and anxiety flowing out of me. And pain. Some serious pain.
I went to Target to use the bathroom before the long drive home and I'm pretty sure I looked like an addict. I'm surprised someone didn't follow me out and ask me to empty my pockets.
I NEEDED that safe deposit box done today. And it's still not done. And I put 200 miles on my car (and sat in a lot of traffic) for nothing. Except a lot of tears. And I could have done the tears at home.
So, here I sit tonight. I'm not going to lie. I'm hurting. I can't adequately express what the last 4 months (tomorrow) have been like for me. But what I do know is that I would like to start moving forward. But my body isn't ready. I am TIRED. So tired. I don't know that I've ever felt like this. I want to move it, to work out, to start dropping some of this weight I'm carrying. But my body just keeps saying, "sit down, my friend, there's other work to be done." The work of grief. And I have to honor it.
But I'll admit. I'm fighting it. I know I am. Because it's scary. And hard. And I'm human...trapped in a grief counselor's body.
Today was a HUGE step for me. It felt like the BIGGEST step. And the step I needed to make to move forward. And it ending the way it did has rocked me today.
I came home and ordered mom's death certificate. And now I have to work up all the energy and figure out another time to make that 200 mile trek again.
I know tomorrow is a new day. I get to be at work. Thank goodness for my work! Dark and I still aren't friends so it wants to tell me stories right now. But I'm trying not to listen and I know I'll move forward. This will just be a part of the story some day. But tonight. Tonight I'm hurting. And I don't like to hurt any more than the next person. But I do know I need to feel it. So, I will. But it sucks for me as much as it does for everyone else.
Today was a rough one. Tomorrow will be better. But tonight, I need to sit with today's events and let the feelings flow.
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