Saturday, April 21, 2007

Hidden disability

I've decided that grieving is like having a hidden disability. Except it's not just hidden from the public, it's hidden from the person grieving too. I can go hours (not yet days, not even close) without any 'symptoms' and then without warning it'll just strike.

Today was a really good day. We got up early because Roxanne came over at 8am with baked treats. Jess made coffee and we dished about real estate clients and stuff.

After she left, we eventually got ourselves together and headed out on our bikes for a bunch of errands. It was a gorgeous sunny day, a little chilly but we had a great time biking about 20 miles around town for errands. Since I got my financial aid money today, I indulged in a rare bit of retail therapy at REI. Got a new helmet (long overdue), some socks, and a couple of bras, also long overdue.

Then over to see Traci and visit with my cousin and lastly to the grocery store and home with our loaded bags.

After all the driving I've been doing the last several months, it was great to work my muscles again. And work, they did. Although I'm usually the stronger biker, Jess was feeling good and she made me work. When she knew she had me on the ropes, we turned the corner from Skidmore to Grand and she cut to the inside and powered up the hill. I had to put my foot down on that though--I do have a reputation to maintain. :)

When we got home, I took my new helmet to the table to make some final adjustments and put the new light I bought on the back of it. (And yes, it's the same helmet that Jess has and the same light and we already have the same bikes, making us officially the biggest dorks of all time).

The last thing I did was fill out the sticker that goes inside the helmet with my personal information, blood type and emergency contact.

I paused. Mom was always my emergency contact. Now I've got an emergency all right--my mom is dead and I can't call her to tell her about it. "Honey, you're my new emergency contact." I said, right before I totally lost it. Probably jinxed myself putting the box of tissues back in the bathroom.

When the wave comes, there's nothing to do but ride it out. After a while Jess distracted me with embarrassing pictures from her childhood and the wave passed. Till the next one.

Grief sucks.

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