Sunday, June 29, 2014

Grief has turned me into a four year old

Have you ever seen that little kid in the supermarket having a full on tantrum? Crying, stomping, shouting, declaring that they don't wanna? Yeah. That's me these days, though I usually have my tantrums in private.

Grief has turned me into a screaming four year old. My world has changed in ways I don't understand, nor do I want to understand it. I don't like. I. Do. Not. Like. It. I want it the way I want it and that just isn't going to happen.

I'm in an anonymous motel in Ohio on my way back to Kansas City from Boston. I got here and more than anything else wanted to call Kevin, to let him know I am safe and sound, stopped for the night. This was the first time I've been on a road trip, stopped in a motel and he wasn't there for me to call. As soon as I realized this I started sobbing. Full-on, howling, contorted face sobbing. I cry like this fairly often, and often I find myself thinking I don't want this! I want my old life back!

These are not unreasonable things to think; my old life was one of love and companionship. This new life is indescribably lonely and often indescribably painful. But it's the life I have. I am still blessed with friends and family, but it's not what it was. It isn't Kevin. I miss him. I want him back. And that can't happen the way I want.

Sometimes I can see a path through this pain and loss, a way to be okay. Other times? I have tantrums. I am four years old. I howl because I want what I cannot have and my heart is broken.

So it is.

(c)2014 Laura S. Packer Creative Commons License


  1. May you be able to leave that lonely place in Ohio ASAP, even though you can't leave the BIG lonely place.

  2. Again, you put down in words all that I feel...and don't want to identify with- AT ALL...

  3. BIG GRIEF - any grief really - is so very tied to our youngest selves. You are marvelously wading this river of tears. Teaching us all. I'm so grateful for your ability to express it, though if I could I'd take it from you, carry it away, set it down in some earth where the land could dissolve it. Sending love. Thanks for reaching out to us.

  4. Thinking of you and know that we are listening and that expressing yourself in any way is a valid way to grieve. Kevin definitely would also want you to know that he does care that you made it home safe and sound. If it helps, go ahead and have a "phone call" with him. It also might help to know that Kevin is not alone. Tthe rest of us out here also do care that you made it home safe and sound.

  5. Wise and seemingly obvious (but not) words I was told today: "It's okay to be sad."

  6. Sending you hugs and hoping you are back in Kansas City now safe if not sound. Grief is not something I have much experience with but I understand do-not-like and do-not-want with respect to what life hands you (in my case - illness). We are thinking of you.


True Stories, Honest Lies by Laura S. Packer is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at
Related Posts with Thumbnails