Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Not so slight return.

Goddamnit, I just can't get clear of this whole fucking grieving thing.

The six-month anniversary of the boys' death hit me about as hard as it hit S., but I didn't really pay attention to it because it hit me in a different way. I never really experienced outpourings of grief or bolt-from-the-blue surges of emotion. Everything just got turned down to a dull roar, both the good and the bad. I couldn't get up from the couch. I wanted to write, to communicate with people, to reconnect, but all I could do was sit and stare. And sit. And stare. The six-month anniversary snuck up behind me and clocked me over the head when I wasn't looking. And the babies, oh, the proliferation of babies everywhere I fucking looked.

We attended S.'s brother's wedding. Oh, Christ. Nightmare from go. I attribute my ability to get through the whole thing to a combination of perversity (the more chaotic my in-laws get, the calmer I get), allergy medicine that knocked me off my ass, and liberal applications of vodka. And all the talk of babies, all the "be fruitful and multiply" start-a-family shit, all the "time to start giving us grandkids/cousins" shit. BABIES EVERYWHERE. Fuck it, maybe that should just be the title of this blog. A couple of people extended their regrets, but one of them went on to talk about how the "right" people were rarely fertile, and another followed his regrets with pictures of the grandkids, for fuck's sake.

And then I come back and plant myself on the couch. Things to do, but I can't make myself do them.

And if that's not enough - here comes my 20th high school reunion. Now, there' s no chance in hell that I'm going to go. Flat-out. Don't have the time or the inclination. But there's a website, and I'm curious to see what's happened to who. One thing in common? BABIES. Lots and lots of babies. Between two and four (or, for fuck's sake, FIVE) for each person. What do I have to offer? Tragedy. I guess it'll have to be enough that I married, because reproduction seems like it's right off the menu. Considering what I was like in high school, the marriage bit will probably be enough of a surprise. Even more of a surprise that I married a woman.

It spikes up every now and then, in a way that it didn't before. Maybe I was just in shock, but I find myself thinking "I should have at least one little boy asleep on my chest right now", or "that should be me carrying the little boy or pushing the stroller." But I'm not. It's not me, and given how hard we worked to get this far, I honestly wonder if it'll ever be. It may not be in the cards, no fooling myself, no more optimism. It's like the smoke is clearing, and I'm seeing just how fucking big the crater really is.