The night before I slept 2 hours. I have a sinus infection. It’s not my first rodeo. However, this day at work is hard. At lunchtime, I lay on the floor behind my boss's desk in a vain effort to sleep. A coworker said I was snoring or choking, he wasn’t sure. I thought I was coughing. It’s a hard day. At one point during the day, I sat down because work had stopped completely. When I try to stand up, my body won’t move. This is something that no one tells you about. You and your body are two different people. I was thinking of moving, but my body didn’t respond. I finally get up and it hits me. Exhaustion. This wave of exhaustion was so strong that I had to hold onto the things around me to stay up.
My grandfather died three years ago. I usually don’t think about it until something reminds me of him. On this day it was my exhaustion. My grandfather was a hard man. He woke up early in the morning, made his breakfast and coffee then went to work at the crack of dawn. On the weekends he would do yard work. He was a machine. He never really stopped. Even in his old age long after retirement he still cut grass. My dad told me stories of my grandad going out to party the night before work. He would stay out until 2 am get home sleep for 2 hours wake up and go to work. He never missed work and he never missed a party.
This is my heritage. This is my past. But I have never been like my grandfather. I never go to parties and I have never loved work. I remember one time my boss asked me why I called into work the day before and I told him I took a millennial day. I’m not what you would describe as a workaholic. I’m more of a chillaholic. I have always known we see the world differently. In my struggle to live, I find myself trying my best to be like him sometimes.
I’m standing at work exhausted. It’s break time. Everyone leaves the production line to sit down for a minute. I can’t move. I’m too exhausted to even walk to sit down. I start to get frustrated with my body because the day is nowhere near over and I can’t move without forcing myself to do it. Then the water starts. I feel this liquid on my face. I wipe it off surprised. Just like the first time it happened, I’m not sure why I feel it. My first thought is the building is leaking. After wiping my face a few times I start to understand, I’m crying. It occurs to me that while I'm standing there unable to move from exhaustion. I start to think of my granddad. I’m crying because I know he would never stop. I tell myself I need to be like him. Strong like he was. I finished that day of work. It was a struggle the whole time but I did it.
Even after the three years since he passed away his life and death are still affecting me on a very deep level. I would think that grief is this video game boss that once you beat it you win the game. When you play a video game you face a boss that has certain mechanics. It becomes obvious how you defeat him. He is not as hard to face the second and third time around. But grief is a continuous thing that doesn’t hold to any certain event or action. It comes at times we would never ask for it to come. You never defeat him, you just never admit defeat.
I know for a fact that i am not looking forward to anyone else passing away. I function fine but not well. I can’t even stop myself from crying. I see myself in that person often. I do not want to go through this again. But I will. Grief is a part of life. I have had other people in my life die before so I know that grief happens at different levels. I know that I have no choice in how it happens. All I do know is i have to keep going through. My relationship with Jesus calls me to do that. That loved one would want me to.
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