It’s a Friday and a snow day, and I’ve been crying much of the day.
I got sucked into the Murdaugh story & was drawn to the young woman killed, but don’t worry-that’s not why I’m crying.
Her grieving boyfriend shares my hubby’s name & they remind me a lot of each other. Plus I’ve been on a dark boat at night in bad conditions & thought we were going to die for a bit- my friend did an awesome job getting his boat to safety thank God- but I think it resonated big time.
Since watching it, I’ve been SO clingy to my Anthony. His love language is touch (I usually don’t always love hugs & stuff-only sparingly) so he’s loving my clinginess at least 
But I’ve wondered this week why I get so wrapped up with others’ grief myself. Kathy and Jack. Anthony and Mallory. It becomes an obsession- but not a productive one.
When I took the Reiki class, I told my teacher that I wanted to heal myself- of all my physical ailments. She then talked to me about trauma and emotions and said that we can even carry ancestral trauma with us. This seemed far removed and not plausible, although I did believe it could be true.
I realized something really profound yesterday. My uncle died when I was like around 2. It might have had no effect on me consciously, but I have to acknowledge that for awhile – I was raised with people grieving deeply. I’ve often heard that my grandpa was never the same after his son’s death- and I know it hit everyone hard- I just assumed I had escaped the sadness because I don’t remember him at all (I was obsessed with him as a baby whenever my grandparents watched me- at least I’m told).
This side of the family doesn’t grieve well- I mean some are still so bitter & in a bad place because of my mom’s sudden death in 2014-so I’m sure it was similar back then.
I wonder if this is why I’m so sensitive/drawn to deaths. I didn’t lose anyone in my life significant until I was an adult, but do remember a conversation with my mom at age 5 where she told me everyone dies & then I was inconsolable.
Being around such sorrow at a young age, sorrow that probably lasted several years, realistically, had to have affected me somewhat.
This morning, I thought about that again.
I meditated, and think it’s worthwhile to mention that I cried throughout the session- for various reasons. I cried for the sorrow I felt for all of the dead people and their families and I also cried for the gratefulness I feel when I think about my life and marriage (I was worried about becoming a widow for years, still am at times).
I went to the cave I go to when I want to see loved ones who have passed.
My mom was there, and so was my uncle Bob.
My uncle looked young, like the age he was when he died- around 22. He had dark hair and dark eyebrows and big eyes that resemble my living uncles’ eyes.
But then he looked old. His hair and eyebrows were white- like my uncle Joe, his lookalike brother.
While we all stood there, the realization of lost time hit me hard, and I began to cry harder.
When I think about the deaths that plague my mind, I always get so sad for the dead person who never gets to meet future family members or make memories. And I also get sad for the family- knowing at every milestone their brother- or son- or whoever are missing out- on all these moments and time.
I never thought that was me but it is. I missed out on knowing my uncle. He had a girlfriend, who (I’ve heard) loved him very much. Would they be married? Have kids? What would those cousins be like?
And he never got to know me, or my sisters. All our life, growing up, was my mom thinking of her brother missing out on our birthday parties and milestones, and hers too? He’s missed so much. And I’ve blown it off my whole life, thinking that I escaped the sorrow.
It’s Friday, and a snow day, and I’ve been crying most of the day. Grieving an uncle I never really knew.
I think I’ve been carrying my mom’s grief.
Thank you tears for finally releasing it ❤
The Devil Drinks Vodka 