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What Grief Is Like…Theme Park Edition

March 28, 2016

I am currently visiting the Grieving Process Theme Park.  There are a few rules to observe.   

  
Each one of the above I go through daily, especially 3, 5 and 6.  No one understands what is going on inside of me, I would give away every earthly possession I have to go back to the way things used to be, and every day I wonder, if only…  

Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda Syndrome Parking Available…

I park my car in the lot and turn off the ignition. Plenty of spaces open around me. Maybe I have time to back out of the lot? What if I restart the car?? Can I leave? 

I retrace every step of that last day that Anthony was home. 

What if? 

Could I? 

How about?  

It’s no use, he’s not coming back.  

I have passed through the park entrance. It’s time to get my hand stamped and hit the rides that await. 

Once you are here, you need to keep moving through the entire Grieving Process Theme Park.  There is no going home after the light show.

You will continue to ride the coasters and bumper cars, eating the stale cotton candy.  At least the park sells alcohol.  Piss warm beer and cheap wine. Classy!  

It’s the one and only theme park you DON’T buy a ticket for. You’re handed them. Can’t scalp the tickets on Craigslist or Stubhub either. I tried. 

  

Each day in the theme park is a spiral of emotions. Twists, turns, ups, downs. Grief is a roller coaster you don’t want to be first in line for.  No camping out at night to get the VIP Pass. Believe me, if the sign says “two hour wait from this point,” consider yourself lucky.  

   
Once I exit the Grieving Process Theme Park, supposedly I will be stronger for having survived the challenge. I hold onto the above two quotes for inspiration. 

Maybe then I will get over the nausea that permeates at various times throughout the day. My equilibrium is shot too. I have more bumps, scrapes and bruises than ever.  I am dizzily walking into EVERYTHING.  

I went to grab Luciano’s doorknob this morning to pull his bedroom door closed so I would not disturb him as I moved around the house and I absently smacked my right hand into the door jam. Nice red mark on my middle finger.  

Can you say dizzy???

I blame it on the Theme Park, I have always gotten sick on the spinning rides.   
However in reading my Bible I came across this passage from John 16:22…  

It gives me hope…

The Grieving Process Theme Park has an exit…

I just have to wait my turn to go through…

In the meantime, I will take some Dramamine, wear those acupressure bands that I use on my cruise vacations, and continue going on the rides. 

I have just entered the Park, and it’s a BIG one. This park makes DisneyWorld and the Magic Kingdom look like the local 7-11. It will take years, even decades to complete the entire journey. 

Wish they had a park map for sale… I would love to have a better way to navigate it. 

Let’s walk… 

That way….

Direction unknown….

ūüíč~Miranda

 

 

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2 Comments

  • Reply Tillie Naillon September 28, 2016 at 11:11 pm

    Tears are pouring down my face. This is so beautiful. I lost my precious baby boy on August 15, 2016. I’m devasted. I know he made peace with God. I know hes in heaven. I just cant wait to see his happy face and get one of his bear hugs again.

    • Reply Miranda Allen September 28, 2016 at 11:31 pm

      I am sorry if I made you cry. Thank you for your kind compliment. I lost my firstborn on 2/11/16 and during the first 3 months I was lost. The roller coaster of emotion was so profound. It’s not “easier” now, 8 months in, it’s simply different. I want to see my son so badly I would give away everything I have to do it. He was, and still is, my everything.

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