I said goodbye to my sister while sitting on a ridge watching the sunrise Monday morning. She hadn’t passed yet but my mind told me it wouldn’t be long before she would.

“I love you Marsha” was all I said as the sun rose over the mountain. It wasn’t my plan to do so. I watched the sun crest and it came out of my mouth.

Grief is a bouncing ball inside your head. At first it’s all you can focus on, the loud, constant ricocheting echoing in your mind. There’s nothing to distract you from it. It bounces through your entire day and even when you sleep you can still hear it. The echos get louder at times and occasionally they’ll fade when you aren’t paying attention. You can feel the ball bounding while you try to go back to your day of toiling or rest. Some days the bouncing is just a patter.

If you think about it, it gets louder. Every once in a while you get upset with yourself for not paying attention to it and then that’s all you think about

*bounce

*bounce

*bounce

Eventually you get used to the sound but it’ll never go away. I know this because I have a half dozen or so that I can still hear bouncing to this day.

It’s hard to describe what it’s like losing a sibling. I’m not here to narrate it.

Not today

Something they won’t tell you in entrepreneur class is how the show must go on. I’m that boss that asks the question “you still coming to work right?”

To myself

“Do I have a choice?

To be honest, sitting at home isn’t the best option for me either. I grieve if I do and grieve if I don’t.

I’m always tying annual memories together with a mental string. It was this week 6 years ago I parted with my company and for some reason writing that out just felt like I’m beating air with a stick.

“It’s done Chad.”

And just like that it is. 6 years of harping on a memory that started off with

Anger

Shame

Hopelessness

Slowly alchemized into

Gratitude

Relief

Peace

And now that’s it. It just fluttered out and away.

Fizzled with no fanfare

Grief rears its ugly head and extinguishes another. Not sure if that is just a step in the right direction or a final passage of sorts.

Wild. It’s just gone. Faster than I could write it out.

A moment of composure please

I’m not tired as much as spent. If that makes sense. I have to quit focusing like I’m on a curriculum. “Who or what is next?” is an unhealthy outlook

Move on Gangwer

You first

Who the fuck am I even talking to right now?

A hard rain is coming this week. Nature has a dramatic way of catching up on its responsibilities. Sorry about that hot dry summer. Here’s a few inches of rain to make amends.

Did the same thing two years ago albeit a little more dramatic.

I’m changing the subject on purpose

*ball bounces further away

My coffee for some reason just can’t get hot enough for me today.

Grief is odd man. Yesterday I made jokes with Barry most of the day in between the urges to burn my deli to the ground.

I cussed out a telemarketer. I want to apologize to anyone that’s called for charcuterie orders I’m just not nice right now.

I’ve closed the deli an hour early here and there because sitting in that place for an hour alone doesn’t feel good to me.

I’m ok. I really am. I’m just not there yet.

I’m also not used to dealing with grief sober.

*sighs

Rain is forcing me to stay home and reckon with my emotions for the week. I suppose it’s the best thing for me. Melancholy on steroids.

I have 8 days to get a suit that no longer fits me dry cleaned.

My Sunday finest that I’ve never worn on a Sunday. She’ll be laid to rest on a Saturday. Do I bring food? I mean that’s what I fucking do right?

*ball continues to bounce

I don’t listen to music much when I grieve. Some music will attach itself almost like a spell. I’ve got two songs that I won’t listen to because they refresh my memory of my dad’s passing. I’ve got one for my stepfather too. Brother has one, mom has a whole ass catalogue.

Marsha? It’ll be Queen. Any Queen song. One day she came into the deli and asked if I had any Queen albums. “I love Queen they’re one of my favorites”

I immediately stopped what I was doing and put on a Queen album and Marsha smiled and went back to her conversation with her husband. Did you know Freddie and I share the same birthday? I’ll bet my sister did.

It’s going to be a minute before I can listen to Queen again but I promise I will when the ball begins to quiet down.

Peace.