These past few days have been both busy and empty, frantic and calm. I wake up early and lie there in the dawn light and after a few hours the sadness sinks in and I cry for a while and hurt so much. And then it passes, and I get out of bed and try to talk to people and deal with my life with a heavy weight of sadness in my chest that doesn't cut as much as the tears but that never goes away.
Yesterday morning I sent e-mail, just one. I wrote to five of my closest girl friends and let them know what happened. Danny's parents told family. And the phone has rung constantly the last 48 hours. Sometimes I answer it and talk to people. Sometimes I don't feel up to it and let it go to voicemail. I've received so many words of kindness and encouragement, so many thoughts and prayers and good wishes. It means so much to me, even when people don't say the "right" thing or when they talk more than they listen. I know not everyone's good at grief, and I do appreciate the effort.
I've also heard from several women who've gone through this, and not surprisingly, it helps so much to talk to them. One of my husband's cousins called, one of my cousins called, one of our close couple friends, and a friend from graduate school. Just to hear someone say "I know how much you're hurting" makes me feel less alone. All of those women have children now, too, so that helps me to fight back the anxiety and fear that are never far from the surface.
There's someone I haven't told yet, though. One of my closest friends. A bridesmaid in my wedding--I was maid of honor at hers. I threw her baby shower just 1 month ago.
She had her baby yesterday. A boy. She left me a voicemail with the details, telling me she wants to talk and that I can call her today.
I can't call her today. I can't chat and pretend nothing happened to me two days ago. And I can't dump all my sadness and need on her blissful new motherhood. I bought her a baby gift right away, and I sent her a congratulatory text (and mentioned that I'm out of town and will call her next week) and a congratulatory facebook message. But I can't talk to her about this right now.
Which means I can't talk to her.