| Commentary and Philosophy Non-Fiction posted August 13, 2023 | Chapters: |
...7 8 -9- 10... 
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sadness
A chapter in the book The Saga of Procrastination
The stages of grief
by Iza Deleanu
Have you ever wondered what a human smile hides? What is behind that" I am fine" generic answer? The mouth says fine, but the eyes are telling another story. How many of us had hidden under the politically correct answer:" I am okay, don't worry!" Tears flood when that person turns their back, covering every inch of that pretend "Don't worry, be happy!" slogan. I have been there and played this game unsuccessfully because my face cannot play very well the poker role. My soul has this rare curse of making a life and death matter; maybe it is my ethnic DNA- Romanian. When Romanians struggle with a strike from fate, they either dance and sing or hide and cry a river. When I was young, I used to do a combination of both, but mostly the first part. As an adult, I added a "cleaning" in between. When something terrible hits me, first, I fall into depression for a couple of days or years, depending on the tragedy. I hide inside myself and grieve. Then I start praying for a way out because I want to kill that depression with a ray of hope. I want to add some optimism.
Writting helps, of course. In the last stage, I dance until I fall on the floor. Then I pick up the piece and clean my house as a lunatic. Nowadays, if I can, I throw a travel plan in the middle. This is my secret ingredient for a fast recovery. In the last stage, I am trying to leave behind the "would've, should've, and what if," and I am replacing all of these possible scenarios with it was for the best. It was for the best that my dad passed away, and God spared him the horrible end that the cancer had in store for him. It was for the best that my first cat Pisa went to rainbow heaven because her disease had no cure, and she was suffering. The good thing is that she decided to go on her terms and spared me the awful decision of putting her down. It was for the best that I left my husband, God has a plan for me, and I just finished the part where I had to save him and show my ex that there is still life after you got cancer and beat it! Now my last blow... my little Olly. I still don't have "it was for the best excuse." I just finished cleaning my house and am trying to leave behind that "what if I could've saved him despite the doctor's diagnosis."
God gave me Teddy as support, physical and emotional. I need to move on for him. He cannot survive without me. So I will do some cleaning and cooking, walk his royal ass in the floor hallway and supervise him as he goes on the balcony. You know, just routine stuff from the life of a cat. I know he is missing his brother as much as I do. So, what's next? I must work it out, pay the vet bills, and move on with God's grace. These are my stages of grief, Romanian style.
Have you ever wondered what a human smile hides? What is behind that" I am fine" generic answer? The mouth says fine, but the eyes are telling another story. How many of us had hidden under the politically correct answer:" I am okay, don't worry!" Tears flood when that person turns their back, covering every inch of that pretend "Don't worry, be happy!" slogan. I have been there and played this game unsuccessfully because my face cannot play very well the poker role. My soul has this rare curse of making a life and death matter; maybe it is my ethnic DNA- Romanian. When Romanians struggle with a strike from fate, they either dance and sing or hide and cry a river. When I was young, I used to do a combination of both, but mostly the first part. As an adult, I added a "cleaning" in between. When something terrible hits me, first, I fall into depression for a couple of days or years, depending on the tragedy. I hide inside myself and grieve. Then I start praying for a way out because I want to kill that depression with a ray of hope. I want to add some optimism.
Writting helps, of course. In the last stage, I dance until I fall on the floor. Then I pick up the piece and clean my house as a lunatic. Nowadays, if I can, I throw a travel plan in the middle. This is my secret ingredient for a fast recovery. In the last stage, I am trying to leave behind the "would've, should've, and what if," and I am replacing all of these possible scenarios with it was for the best. It was for the best that my dad passed away, and God spared him the horrible end that the cancer had in store for him. It was for the best that my first cat Pisa went to rainbow heaven because her disease had no cure, and she was suffering. The good thing is that she decided to go on her terms and spared me the awful decision of putting her down. It was for the best that I left my husband, God has a plan for me, and I just finished the part where I had to save him and show my ex that there is still life after you got cancer and beat it! Now my last blow... my little Olly. I still don't have "it was for the best excuse." I just finished cleaning my house and am trying to leave behind that "what if I could've saved him despite the doctor's diagnosis."
God gave me Teddy as support, physical and emotional. I need to move on for him. He cannot survive without me. So I will do some cleaning and cooking, walk his royal ass in the floor hallway and supervise him as he goes on the balcony. You know, just routine stuff from the life of a cat. I know he is missing his brother as much as I do. So, what's next? I must work it out, pay the vet bills, and move on with God's grace. These are my stages of grief, Romanian style.
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