Set adrift on the wave of emotions

I hate this crazy ‘I’m-not-in-control-of-myself’ feeling.

A perfect example: The other day when hubby and I were driving, the sweeping golden grasses in the farm paddocks near the road out past the winery and on the way to the shops made me cry… freaking craziness!  I don’t even know why, it’s not like Grandad ever let his paddocks get like that, they were always well kept because he had cattle.

I dunno. It’s strange…

Sometimes I’m perfectly fine. I miss him, sure, but the pain and sadness is ok, it’s manageable, it’s not overwhelming. Other times it’s like being suffocated.

It frustrates the hell out of me. I hate not being able to adequately articulate how I’m feeling. It’s like a dream, you can remember it right after you wake up, but then the more you try to remember it, the more elusive it becomes. I start to write and the first few lines are good (as in – they accurately describe how I feel), but then the rest starts to feel forced and not real… it’s like I’m TRYING to write what I think I should be feeling, not what I am feeling… *grinds teeth*

Maybe it’s to do with the emotions… they don’t seem to sit still, constantly changing. One minute I can be sad, thinking of how I’ll never hear him laugh again, the next I’ll be remembering the good times when he used to dance his little Irish jig. Maybe that’s why the writing is so hard, in the first initial lines I’m feeling sad, then the next I’m ok, so the sadness doesn’t seem real… I dunno. FFS it annoys me!

Like here’s what I wrote the other day:

Set adrift upon the cold, cruel wave of sorrow

I find myself alone

Will I wake up and face my new tomorrow?

Or will my heart be made of stone?

I like that section. It resonates with me, it feels real

Then I wrote:

Loss tugs at my mind

Hurt stabs my heart

Anger flashes across my vision

Sorrow fills my life

And that to me feels forced and cheap, not real. Something some child would write, not articulate. I don’t like it. So I kept writing and I came up with this:

When I see an old man

I fight a growing sense of anger

Why is he allowed to still be here

While my grandad is not?

I’m kind of upset that I wrote that. That’s not me! I’m not aggresive, I’m not violent. I think little old men are adorable when they shuffle about in their green/grey/brown slacks pulled up to their armpits and their soft fluffy white hair sticking up in tufts of fairyfloss above their head… but I guess it’s true, because I continued on with this:

Remorse and shame fill me

I should not be thinking such foul thoughts

Yet the injustice fills me with an impotent rage

That longs to be set a flame.


It hurts to know he is no longer here,

That he sleeps now with the angels.

Why is it that he had to go

When we were not ready?

When I look back on this, I can clearly see the shift in emotions but I wrote that in a span of about 5 minutes… It’s insane how quickly the feelings change from remembrance to anger to sorrow to shame… WTF?! I feel like screaming sometimes at all the frustration.

Perhaps other people can shed some light on the mess that is my brain at the moment. I can only imagine what it must be like for my grandma. She spent over 60 years with grandad. Could you imagine being with someone for 60 years and then losing them? I can’t!! That stuff is scary!

Was it like this for you? I don’t understand it. I feel out of control and lost… EUGH!

Do you ever want your lost loved one to give you a sign they’re ok? Like appear to you as a ghost (if you believe in them) or just something so you can feel them there? I feel a bit selfish at times for wanting Grandad to do that for me. He would be with grandma, trying to help her through this… then mum… it doesn’t make it hurt any less though.

Tell me in the comments below, if you too went through something like this when you lost a loved one.

6 thoughts on “Set adrift on the wave of emotions

  1. My grandparents died many years ago and I still carry a photograph in my wallet. They are still with me in the examples they set and the stories we tell.

    For a while after they died I was prone to more extreme emotions including anger.

    As with much of my anger this had a root in feelings of loosing control. My brain engages the fight reflex to “help” me not loose control of a situation again or regain control. Trying to stop being angry does not work for me because it makes my brain think I have lost control of being calm. Instead I manage the feelings when they come using a Tantric mantra: The lion is entitled to his roar. By accepting that I am allowed to be angry I am in control and the anger fades. This might or might not work for you.

  2. It took me 2 years before I wrote a short story about my father after he passed. It was really cathartic for me (although I shed a lot of tears while I was writing it) 😦

  3. First of all, I am so sorry for your pain. There’s no feeling in the world like losing someone precious to you. It leaves a hole in your heart that nothing can fill.

    This post calls to mind two separate absences in my life. The first is that of my grandmother, who died going on four years ago now. I can’t begrudge her her death; it was her time. She knew it, and so did we. She was ready, even if we weren’t. That provides some small comfort. Even so, I get sad when I think of the things in my life I wish I could have shared with her: my wedding day, the birth of my son. We were close, and her absence was -is- deeply felt.

    The second absence is harder to deal with. Three years ago, a close friend of my husband and I killed himself two days before Christmas. This is a wound that still hasn’t fully healed. Some wounds never do. This time of year is hard for us. It reminds us that, in a season that celebrates family and friendship, someone will always be missing. To this day, whenever Christmas rolls around, whenever I hear the sound of a train, I remember him, and it makes me sad. I’ve tried to accept that in some perverse way, it was his time to go, too, but it’s much, much harder.

    My thoughts are with you. Be strong. Hold your head high. I’m sure it’s what your grandfather would be wishing for you.

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