Grief

Sometimes the grief hits you like a brick  to the temple when you're in the middle of a belly laugh.

I see my mom, in my minds eye, lying there in my living room dying. As if that wasn't bad enough my brain decides too be a real douche-bag and I get to relive more horrors. My pets dying, my grandma yelling in pain and dying, the lady that got electrocuted and I stood there watching paramedics try and revive her with the paddles (years later the family pulled the plug).

Those moments flash back and stop me. They stop my joy. They stop the laughter.

I will never be that person I was the day that woman died in front of me next to the carousel.
I'll never be that person that I was the day before my grandma died in my arms.
I'll never be that person I was the moment before my mother slowly and painfully died in my living room.

No, I cannot be that person. I've made peace with that. I'd like to know who I am now? I'd like to know how to heal from those experiences. I'd like to be me, whatever or whoever that is today.