Danger in Denver

Guys. Guys guys guys.

My husband, kids, and I flew into Denver this morning. It’s Saturday. On Tuesday morning, we will bury my paternal grandmother. I am told she died on April 12, 2023 at the age of 99.75, but I don’t believe she is dead.

At most I saw her once a year, and I would usually see her in Colorado, where she lived the final 34 or so years of her life. Her (alleged) passing has not felt real because I have not visited Colorado since her (alleged) death.

The same was true when my maternal grandmother died in December 2019. I always saw her in San Diego. All of my memories of her are in San Diego. So until I visited San Diego and did not see her, her death was not real. Even after that, mourning her death was difficult because I was rarely reminded of her in my day-to-day life. Then I would drive down to San Diego and start sobbing as soon as I neared her freeway exit, overwhelmed with memories, grief, and loss.

Tomorrow, things may start to feel real. Today, I have been in survival mode. I am anticipating the grieving I need to do. I am also girding myself to step into the swirling, all-consuming dysfunction of my parents/immediate family and my dad’s extended family. I will also be seeing my aunt and uncle on my mom’s side, who I believe have always disliked my dad. I will be seeing a close family member who I have not seen since they were arrested and charged with a financial crime, and with whom I have only communicated over text. Should I continue? Have I adequately communicated the emotional complexity of the next 72 hours?

Today, my family unit (me, husband, kids) drove up to Fort Collins to see a college friend who moved there one year ago. As we sat in traffic on the 473 North, the rain pelting the car and grayness spreading in every direction, I said “if it’s gray all weekend, I don’t know how I’m going to do this.” A few minutes later, as my son screamed about how his car seat was wet and therefore he needed a new one immediately, I repeated the sentiment. It was not a joke. I have to scale an emotional mountain. Meanwhile, all I can think about is how soon I can revise a report I wrote, because I’d just received an email from my boss that said “good job!” and then provided comments and questions. To me, “good job” plus comments and questions really means “mediocre job” and “how stupid of you to think you were good at this,” so I must revise the report immediately and prove my worth and until I do that, I cannot possibly think about anything else. Or rest or enjoy myself, but those are two things I was not counting on doing anyway.

My husband checked his weather app and communicated the bad news gently:

H: “It doesn’t look great.”

Me: “The sun is my hope.”

H: *grim nod*

About an hour later, the clouds cleared and the sun came out. We sat on my friend’s deck, watching the kids laugh as they learned how to roast marshmallows and made smoos (my son’s word for s’mores.) Dark clouds are forecasted for tomorrow, Monday, and Tuesday, but for a short period of time today, my very nervous system got a break.