Knowing too much…

Since my last post, I have had a few quick moments with my friend Sharon and we were able to share a nice but short cuppa on Friday. I don’t know whether she needed to talk or whether I needed to hear. All I know is that I deeply regret asking if the family knew anything more about when and what happened to Barb when she fell in her home. Because I am very familiar with Barb’s home and the three floors of her townhouse, Sharon was able to tell me more than someone who wasn’t familiar with her home. I have constantly and consistently regretted asking her about the accident for the last three days. I know too much now.

For those that know me, you know my mind works in different ways than most others’. I think in pictures. I think conceptually. My thoughts are always pictures flitting though my mind. It is difficult to explain but it is what it is. Anyway you would think that by the age of 45, I would know not to ask for more information than I need to process a situation. Barb fell from a ladder in her house and has died. That’s all I needed to know but out of that dreaded word curiosity with some compassion for my friend thrown in, I asked if the family knew more about what happened. I know too much.

For the last 60+ hours, if my mind was not engaged in an active thought process to accomplish something, I lived and relived Barb’s fall and subsequent actions. These are horrific thoughts that have brought on a deeper emotional devastation than I previously experienced when learning about her death. Each day is a scosh better – according to the Urban Dictionary, a scosh is a hair less than a smidgen. And that’s being generous. If I could change my thoughts, I would but facts are facts and my mind knows better. I woke up crying on Saturday morning. I knew not to linger long in bed. I got up, found MWH in the kitchen and fell into his arms in hopes his hug would drive away the thoughts. I whispered, “I know too much.” His hug brought enough comfort to get dressed and walk with him to the local coffee shop. A morning filled with a fantastic cup of coffee and two huge newspapers helped. I also went and spent time with the Kilpatrick’s to watch their youngest son Riley play soccer. The evening was also spent with Jody and Sharon on a Harbour cruise to experience the lights of the annual Vivid experience.

Yesterday I was not so successful. It was laundry day for me and I allowed myself to withdraw from the family while sorting clothes, watching TV and climbing deeper and deeper in my thoughts. We are all still a little stunned here and coping the best we can. I took a break from being wife and mother – I needed it but it wasn’t the most healthy way of dealing with the situation. It is Monday morning now, I’m writing to purge the thoughts, I am back in the present and today will be a productive day. The funeral and wake for Barb is on Wednesday. It will be another difficult day to tackle but as long as I remember that with each new day, life will get a scosh better. It will. Life is a process. It will unfold how it is meant to unfold. My job is to stay in the present, not dwell in the past.

It still sucks to know too much…

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