Another throw back Thursday post.
I seem to have perfected the art of car crying. It takes a small amount of skill and forethought to be able to successfully cry while driving.
Driving is a good time for reflection, because aside from paying attention to the road, my mind is pretty much disengaged from having to do things. This allows for thoughts, which often at this point, lead to crying.
In order to successfully car cry without driving off the road, I’ve learned that I need to blink strategically. Too often, and my eyes are closed more than they should be. Too seldom, and the tears pile up and obscure the view. Finding that middle ground has taken a bit of learning. On top of that, if I have my sunglasses on, I need to prepare for the tears, and move them out, away from my cheeks. Otherwise, I get tears on them, and cleaning that off is annoying and distracting.
At this point, a month out, I am not crying every time I get in the car… nor even every time I drive by his street. It is, however, still more often than not. And the longer the drive the greater the likelihood.
As for what I cry about, that’s as varied as can be. Sometimes I’ll recall the few car trips we took together. Sometimes it’ll be because I think of how sad/hurt he must have been. Sometimes it’s angry crying, for not letting me love him as much as I wanted/could.
It’s hard, now, to think of not being sad all the time. I have a hard time believing that will eventually be something that is possible. Intellectually, I know that it will, sooner or later. But I don’t believe it in my heart. I can’t comprehend not having this hole that continually radiates pain from my heart. I can’t imagine that eventually the hole will scar over, and most the time, will be, while not gone, at least not screaming.
Being with people helps me ignore it. But I know that I’ve become less fun. Less happy. My default now, rather than pleasant and optimistic is sad. And as much as I can try to hide it, I know I do a piss-poor job of it most the time. So far, my friends have been wonderful about it. But I fear the day they all get sick of it. They will protest that they will never do so, and I try to believe it, but I also know that being around someone who is always down is draining, so I know that it’s likely, despite protests and intentions. Because I don’t foresee this changing any time soon. Maybe never. I don’t know. How long does it take to rebuild your heart after it’s been shattered into dust? Dust and ash.
I try to maintain normal conversations and not dwell on it. But everything, literally everything, reminds me of him in some way or another, so I have trouble doing so. I can’t come up with topics of conversation that don’t involve him. My brain just won’t do it. Well… I guess that’s not entirely true. I can sometimes remember things about the people I’m with that will allow me to ask a pertinent question. Not always. And when I’m able to do so, my mind does often return to him almost immediately.
That? Thinking of him all the time? That had become habit. Because of his refusal to allow us a chance at a real relationship, it had become a habit I was trying to break. When my grandpa died, 10 months ago, one of the things that was in his house was a refrigerator magnet in the shape of a police officer that, if you push a button, it says “Stop! Step away from the refrigerator!” My favorite uncle’s family discovered after collecting the magnet from his house, that if the magnet was in the car, it would go off at random intervals. When I saw them at the family reunion we had just after they’d acquired it, they gave it to me, because otherwise, they were going to run it over.
It’s in my car now. Until Ian died, it was a melancholy, but funny reminder, and I enjoyed hearing it whenever I hit a bump in the road JUST RIGHT. In the last few months of his life, because I was trying to break my habit of thinking about him all the time, I started using the magnet as a way to tell me at random intervals in the car to stop, and step away from the thoughts of him. And if I hadn’t been thinking of him at that moment, I patted myself on the back.
Now there is no refrigerator to step away from. And every time I hit a bump JUST RIGHT, it goes off, and I am prone to start car crying. I should take it out. I should remove the reminder. But I can’t bear to now, because doing so seems like I’m trying to remove both of the most important men in my life from it. Which they have done quite effectively enough on their own. I can’t help them along.
Written 3/14/2014
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Has the car crying diminished, my sweet kid?
Since I wrote this post, it has a great deal. Still happens, but not every time I’m in the car.