Griefousy

I am still riding the high from an incredible three days in Southern California last weekend. It is a bit unusual to have book events before your book actually comes out, but when I realized that I would be at Epilepsy Awareness Day at Disneyland working with CURE Epilepsy, I HAD to figure out how to sneak in my book.  

Getting a couple events under my belt before the main tour kicks off next week was invaluable and helped quiet my nerves (People showed up! People bought the book!). But perhaps more importantly, I got to reconnect in person with dear friends who I’ve loved for years, some even for decades. When you have known someone for this long and have seen them grow, watched them navigate life’s edges and windfalls, even if you’ve not kept in touch as closely as you would have liked, there is an appreciation for one another. And when those friends show up? Well, no value could possibly be placed on that. We expect our partners and family to show up – our friends choose to.

For much of my book tour I am looking forward to staying with friends and family. In part to save money (my publisher has helped organize the tour, but travel expenses are on me), but also to get more quality time with people that I don’t see nearly enough. In LA I go to stay with dear friends who enveloped me in fluffy love, support, and goodness only comparable to a warm chocolate chip cookie fresh out of the oven. In Orange County, I reached out to the Hagers, whom you may know via their Wonder Woman, Emma or from this blog, this one, or this one. It had been years since I had seen them in person and I could not wait.

While driving the hour from LA to Orange County my mind was racing with to do lists in advance of my publication day and upcoming tour. So much so that I never really registered what I was about to walk into. I mean, it’s my friends’ home, who I was excited to see and yes, their daughter, who I adore, is medically-complex and disabled. And at first, I was fine, better than fine actuallly! I was so happy to see them!

Hugs were shared, a home cooked meal devoured, and I held Emma in my lap, chatting with her as her parents’ administered feeds and medications through her g-tube, and cleaned the drool from around her mouth.

Just like I used to do with Adelaide.

Still, I was fine. Comforted even, by this once familiar routine.

…And then it was time to put Emma to bed.

Their bedtime routine is involved with purpose and meaning behind every step. Again, something I could relate to. I watched as they sang to Emma and danced with her, prepped the feeding pump, and brushed out her hair. And then just as quickly as you can discharge a 10mL syringe, I was very much not fine. I quietly excused myself, bee-lined for their front door and made it outside before the tears and sobs erupted.

I called Miguel.

“How completely screwed up is it that I am jealous of this family? Their daughter is not well, they are moving from crisis to crisis with no time to process each trauma, their lives are beholden to their child in a way so few people truly understand – and yet… I miss that life. I miss Adelaide. How did I not see how hard this would be?”

“Our life is so different now,” Miguel offered, “it can be hard to remember until you are back in it.” I love my husband so much. It did not make me feel better to recognize how much time now stood between my life and theirs.

I was able regain emotional control just as I noticed a neighborhood security patrol stop on their bike just feet from the driveway. He appeared to be distracted writing something on his notepad. I’m almost certain he was making sure the crazy crying lady outside his neighbor’s house wasn’t a threat.

Later, I would apologize to Bud and Maggie for needing to step out. That my emotions got the best of me and in true medical parent form they didn’t bat an eye.

“Oh, I get it, I fell apart an hour before you got here!” Maggie admitted. Of course, her falling apart was over the stress and concern of taking care of her daughter, not grief disguised as jealousy - griefousy, as Bud cleverly coined it - but it still made me feel better, or at least less scarlet lettery.

The next morning, we chatted more and I snuck in a bonus round of snuggles with my girl, Emma. Then I headed off to Disneyland to sign and sell books and record a few interviews for future Seizing Life podcast episodes. All this to say, four years in and grief is still super weird, but I am eternally grateful for the friends near and far who continue to lift me up and support me on this journey - even through my griefousy. I couldn’t do this without each of you.

ID: Kelly in a maroon long sleeved shirt, smiling and hold Emma in her lap. Emma’s blonde hair is in a top bun and she is looking at the camera while wearing a bib with Strawberry’s on it, a white t-shirt, and a zebra print blanket over her legs.