Floundering in an Uncharted Sea

It was not a good last week. After a wonderful first weekend of November with friends and an enjoyable speaking engagement, I spent much of the last week crying. I don’t know why but I felt as if I was physically and emotionally breaking into pieces. Either I saved my tears for when I was alone, or alone time was also time to think and thinking led to tears. I don’t know why it hit hard last week. Since I had a similar week after returning from Italy, I wondered if one must make up for any time spent pleasantly diverted. I don’t know if that’s true or not, as I feel as if I’m floundering in uncharted waters.

This isn’t the first time I’ve felt myself to be in floundering in uncharted waters. When our “identical” third and fourth children were born 10 minutes apart, I definitely had “floundering” feelings and, although an “experienced” mother of two, I also felt I’d been pushed into a very unfamiliar sea. However, the last time I could see the shore, and sometimes others saw me and helped keep me afloat.  Of course, sometimes they seemed to think I was cruising when I felt as if I was barely keeping my head above water. Still, it was a “happy” sea and, eventually, I found other mothers of twins who showed me better ways to tread water while still giving each of my twins what he needed.

This time I feel I’m floundering alone and, I think, that may be how I want it or maybe there is no other way to survive this sea. This time I cannot see a shore. I may be near it or I may be far out to sea. There are no landmarks, no buoys. Others who love Brandon and who I love deeply are also floundering in this sea. Sometimes I see them; sometimes I don’t. Sometimes we touch; sometimes we seem close yet unable to reach one another; I want to help but I have no skills to share for navigating this sea. And sometimes I see no one else and have no idea whether one or more others can see me. My usual coping mechanisms seem to be completely inadequate.

I don’t think the last week was simply about pleasant diversion “make-up” time. This past Saturday, November 10, the Brandon C. Gromada Head and Neck Cancer Foundation was one of 159 charity beneficiaries of The Rusty Ball. I both looked forward to it and hated the idea of it all at the same time. How do I explain how creepy the anticipation of this event made me feel when at the same time I felt grateful that this event could raise funds to fight the f’n disease that robbed Brandon of his time on this earth? There are no words to describe or explain this…

At the November 10th Rusty Ball in Brandon's Beastie Boys T-shirt with 3 of my 4 sisters 

Anne, me, Betsy & Kathy