...I'm here... I'm just quiet.

Doesn't it suck when you hear a bit of personal bad news, and then you fall ill? That's what happened to me. I found out last Monday evening that my grandmother (my mom's mom) had passed away. The next day I was nauseous. I figured that between that special time of month coming and the grief over my grandmother that this was just residue of both of those things.

Boy, was I proven wrong.

A couple of nights after hearing about grandma, after dinner, I wasn't feeling well. I spiraled downhill pretty fast. DH thought I was just tired and grieving. Took a shower, fought the nausea, failed and urped, went to sleep, woke up and urped again. And went back to sleep. When next I woke, I was stupid enough to get some clothes on and go to work.

4 hours later I came back home and proceeded to live on the couch for the rest of the day and night. Then A got sick, and B complained about her tummy. DH was wonderful for cleaning up A's mess when she urped in her bed... and the bathroom. We moved A & B downstairs to sleep on sleeping bags while their room aired out. I slept down there too - just when I'd made the decision to sleep upstairs instead of on the couch too. *sigh*

We all stayed home on Friday. A & B were up to their usual fighting but it didn't have that same energy to it. Then DH got sick on Saturday, and I felt like I was going to hit round 2 of this thing. Thankfully, I've been able to battle it back for the last couple of days, and held it together long enough to make it through the funeral yesterday.

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That's another thing... now that I think about it. When I talked with my father over the course of this, he wondered why I was so upset about it all. As DH pointed out, that's awfully presumptuous of him to tell me how to grieve. Of course, this is the same man who wondered why I wasn't upset enough over his mother passing 10 years ago. Well, I'm sorry I didn't throw myself on the grave back then, sheesh.

When I met up with my folks yesterday, Dad and Mom were up to their usual picking at each other, and Dad kept asking me what's wrong. When I just looked at him, startled, he sort of waved it off. As did Mom. I know what they know - she'd been sick for a long time, she wanted to leave this existence, but for two people to be so somber through the service just seemed a little unnerving. Especially when other relatives and friends were clearly saddened by her passing.

Maybe it's because they watched her decline over a significant period of time, when I didn't. Yes, I didn't see her. I was a bad granddaughter and didn't visit her in the last couple of years, but it was clear that she couldn't comprehend me, I couldn't understand her and it was frustrating for the both of us. One who could speak Italian and barely English; one who could speak English, and understand some Italian... we made an interesting pair. But in her later years the English skills slipped away and not hearing the Italian I grew up with receded from my memory. It was easier to keep my distance and not get us both frustrated - which wouldn't have been good for her blood pressure, and would have been murder on my memory.

Selfish? Yes. Absolutely. I completely recognize that, and know that I will pay for not having just one more visit, one more memory for the rest of my life.

Maybe that's why I was so much more affected by the activities of the day than everyone around me. I was soooo quiet yesterday. I barely spoke with DH on the drive up, and at one point he mentioned that I was holding up rather well. As soon as I opened my mouth to answer him, I started to cry. I knew that I wasn't going to be able to keep it all together unless I pulled the acting job of my lifetime, and I was hoping that I wouldn't have to.

Unfortunately, I was wrong. I didn't realize until I looked in the mirror this morning how drained I was from the whole experience (stomach flu notwithstanding). When my Dad waved off my grief and started talking about other things like the kids, and history of the family, I pulled it all in and let something else show through. I buried the grief as far down as I could because I knew that it would just confuse them if I let it out. Only DH would understand.

Honestly, as I think about it now, I don't know if he realized what I did, and I never mentioned what I was doing in the car on the way home - other than to mention that I was surprised that my Mom hadn't lost it during the funeral. DH said my folks have themselves fooled pretty well. Maybe it's not that they had themselves fooled so much as they were able to push the grief away, and they would handle it themselves, privately.

My parents never were much for showing emotions, even to me. I know I never saw my father cry - I've seen him angry, and frustrated, but I don't think I ever saw him cry. Depressed, definitely, when his mother passed and angry too. I saw my mom cry countless times, but it was usually out of anger and nothing else. Those two crying is a foreign concept to me - me, who cries while I clean up A & B's booboos when they get really hurt. You know the hurts - not the little scrapes on the concrete, but the ones that are a little harder and jar the bones a bit.

*Shaking head* I'm perplexed. I'm relieved that it's over. I'm still a little queasy, but that could be from the light fried rice I had for lunch, or I'm not over the stomach ailment yet. I guess it doesn't matter what I am feeling at the moment...

...just that I'm back.