Just words

I've written 3,570 words out of my 50,000-word novel so far. Tonight was the first time since Nov. 11 that I've touched that story. It's not due to lack of plot or character development; it's because the hurt was gone and I wanted it to stay away.

My story is about an elderly widower who rescues a kitten and then tells the cat the story of his life. They become great companions. The cat is the narrator, and well, it makes a lot of sense in my head. I'm sure it sounds pretty stupid to most of you, but here's the catch: The main character is based on my grandfather, who died Oct. 16, 2008. So many of the stories he tells the cat will be from my grandfather's life.

I talked to Graham on Thursday and he asked if I was doing any better. I told him "yes" but as soon as I said the word, I knew it was a lie. I have been avoiding the issue by not writing, the very thing that I had chosen as my coping mechanism. The one thing I'm good at, or at least used to be good at. Avoidance is much neater and requires so much less effort. Easier to dull the ache with paintbrush in hand, or mindlessly playing PS2.

I knew I needed to write today; I doubt I will reach the 50,000-word threshold by the 30th. I guess the important thing for me to realize is that I haven't resolved much about my grandfather's passing. I know there's no timetable to this. I know it's possible for the hurt to be less intense, but I understand it will be there.

The vulnerability sucks. The fleeting thoughts that make tears well up; it's similar to when the ex-person left, but means so much more. Grandpa was always there. The ex... only in my life for 6 years. I could direct my anger after he left. Who is there to be angry at when a 94-year-old man dies of cardio-pulmonary arrest? No one was negligent, it was just his time. With Captain Asshat, there was him and the Whorebag. And that was much easier to get over. Divorce done, I haven't seen him since. My current situation is much better and I'm thrilled to be with Scott. He didn't so much replace the ex as make me ask, "I was married?"

I don't have a way to replace Grandpa. I don't want to. There's no placeholder, no one who can impart his brand of wisdom. I'm thankful for my memories...

I foolishly thought this would clear my head. Now it feels like I've lost ground. I've gone from being the Happy Me to the Depressed Me with the lump in my throat and the pit in my stomach. I should feel fortunate that this is my first brush with the death of a loved one. But right now, I am the little girl without a grandpa.