Some Weeks Suck (That’s the Best I’ve Got Right Now)


It’s been a turbulent week+ with a lot of big emotions that I’m still trying to figure out how to put into words. 

And that’s weird for me. I’m typically fairly good with words. They come naturally to me. 

But not right now. 

I’ve sat down to write so many times and just have to walk away because it means I also have to feel something; and the adult Ki does not like feeling those big emotions. Especially the hard ones. Because it just opens a huge can of worms of feelings that I’m never fully equipped to deal with. I’m sure someone could have fun psychoanalyzing that.

Last Thursday my maternal grandmother passed away. 

I know death is inevitable. It happens. Every single day. 

I’ve lost so many people that it should basically roll off my back like no big deal. The downside to having such a large family, I suppose.

I really loved my grandma. 

Maybe more importantly in regards to all these big feels I’m having, she really loved me too.

And not just as in “oh, you’re my family so I naturally care for you” but as in “she made me feel so genuinely loved and cherished in my childhood. She made me aware that I was worthy of love and someone vastly important.” And let’s be honest, not everyone who loves us always emits that, even if they do truly feel that way.

But she radiated that. 

And as if losing her, 37 weeks pregnant and across the ocean, wasn’t hard enough, less than 48 hours later, her husband, whom I only ever knew as my grandfather and who equally adored me, passed.

You truly can die of a broken heart.

I had a few days to mentally prepare for the loss of my grandma. Not that it made it easier, but I had time to mourn and be upset before she was even gone. 

I had the chance to weep alone where my husband and children didn’t have to be privy to that grief. And not because I want to shield them, but because I don’t like feeling raw and exposed.

We were on our way to a picnic at the beach for Mr. B’s karate when my mom called and told me my grandpa had passed. I think I kept it together on the phone, but I’m not sure I’ve ugly cried so forcefully in my life as I did after I hung up. Like I really want to do right now as I type this. 

It hurt. 

So much. 

It felt like in one breath my childhood was gone. 

I know, I know. I’m nearly 30. My childhood has been gone for years. 

But when I think of the best parts of my early childhood three people always come to mind: my great-uncle/godfather, who passed away last year and I handled just about as gracefully, and then my grandma and grandpa. Many of my best early childhood memories involved one of those three people. 

And they are all gone now. 

And in so many ways, motherhood makes that realization harder. More difficult for me to process. 

The reality of how fragile life truly is. How it can be gone long before we are ready to let go.

The truth that I cannot protect my children from this kind of pain, even though I’d do nearly anything in the world in order to do so. Anything except teach them not to love whole heartedly and unconditionally, which is likely the only way to never experience such intense hurt and loss. But then, what’s the point if you never love people to to your brink and find profound happiness in life by doing so?

It’s been a rough week to say the least. To deal with such loss while preparing for such joy that is the impending arrival of our next dear little one. 

A sweet baby I never imagined my grandparents wouldn’t meet. 

There is joy for me in the memories. There is comfort in knowing they are together.

But there is heartache because I am human and selfish and want them earthside for myself. 


It’s been a week. 

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