Posted by: Ingrid | September 13, 2007

Another form of love

Grief never stays where you put it. Lewis said something like that, and he was right. It constantly surprises me, coming from different angles, almost always unexpected. But that makes it sound like it goes away, which isn’t true. Not that it feels like the fog from two months ago, the heavy lethargy that was so difficult to see beyond. The tiredness that made returning a phone call or talking with people almost an impossibility. It’s further away but present, like the clouds. Sometimes you see the shadows and remember them. Other times you forget they’re above you until you happen to look up. Grief is somewhat like that, sometimes closer, sometimes at a distance, but there nonetheless.

And brought on by the strangest things too! Signing a card yesterday for a co-worker’s wife whose 92 year old father had just died I felt the anger rising. Anger that her mom was alive for 92 years and mine wasn’t. Angry that we were all signing a card for her. I didn’t get a card from our entire department! But it’s not the card. It’s not like I really wanted a card with the same generic message from a group of acquaintances who don’t know what to say.

Sometimes it feels like a gaping hole in the middle of life, as if my heart and mind really don’t believe it could have happened. Where did she go? Why isn’t she here? How did this happen? The unreality of reality, I suppose.

It’s hard in the middle of it all to just accept grief as another form of love.

Sometimes I just miss her. And it hurts.


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