{"id":2441,"date":"2019-04-15T07:36:27","date_gmt":"2019-04-15T11:36:27","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/?p=2441"},"modified":"2019-04-15T11:38:03","modified_gmt":"2019-04-15T15:38:03","slug":"getting-hit-with-the-reality-of-loss","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/getting-hit-with-the-reality-of-loss\/","title":{"rendered":"Getting Hit With the Reality of Loss"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>After someone you love dies, your brain doesn\u2019t always completely register that your beloved is no longer here. Like when my daughter died eight years ago, it wasn\u2019t until weeks later, when I sold her car, that I understood for sure she wasn\u2019t coming home. Fairly composed up to that point, when I handed over the car keys, a massive tidal bore broke loose from deep within me.<\/span><\/p>\n

Getting hit with the reality of loss, just when you think you\u2019re in control of your emotions or beyond mourning, can knock you upside down. A totally unpredictable, ridiculous little event has the power to erupt into a pivotal moment when you realize what you lost and that something big in your life is changing as a result.<\/span><\/p>\n

After my mother died in January, I wondered for months, Where\u2019s my grief?<\/a> Then, last week I was stuck in the bathroom doing a pre-colonoscopy prep \u2014 you know, the dreaded procedure where you flush your insides out with gallons of clear liquids and laxatives, and then sit on the toilet and wait. Filled to the gills, I sat there alone, bored, picking away at my cuticles, trying not to think about the next day\u2019s procedure. It was a time I would have phoned my mother. And she\u2019d have told me, \u201cGo drink a glass of white wine, it\u2019s a clear liquid.\u201d But I remembered my mother was no longer just a phone call away. That\u2019s when the reality of her dying hit me. Hard. And even though towards the end of her life she was too deaf to hear me over the phone to reply with encouraging words, it would have been enough to simply hear my mom ramble on about what she ate for dinner, how she was doing the best she could, and that nothing else was new.<\/span><\/p>\n

When I stopped sobbing, I phoned sisters and friends. I phoned the Halco Heating Company<\/a> to say I was appreciating the new heat pump in the bathroom. I called the gastrointestinal nurse for the umpteenth time, \u201cNothing\u2019s coming out yet\u201d \u2014 anyone \u2014 just to have some company during my lonely mission. Until I thought I could hear my mother growling at me, \u201cShit already, or get off the pot.\u201d And that kinda worked the magic.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

What was a moment in your life when reality whacked you over the head? What was the moment the loss of a loved one really hit you? <\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

After someone you love dies, your brain doesn’t always completely register that your beloved is no longer here. Like when my daughter died eight years ago, it wasn’t until weeks later, when I sold her car, that I understood for sure she wasn’t coming home. Fairly composed up to that point, when I handed over […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1758],"tags":[1856,1857,938,1858,1854,1794,1855],"class_list":["post-2441","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-1758","tag-adapting-to-a-new-reality","tag-colonoscopy-prep","tag-dealing-with-grief","tag-getting-hit-with-the-reality-of-loss","tag-hit-with-reality","tag-my-mother-died","tag-recovering-from-loss"],"aioseo_notices":[],"aioseo_head":"\n\t\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t