Grief is funny. Recently my husband let it slip that for our whole relationship he hasn’t understood my hanging onto this whole “Silas thing” – his exact words were something like “whenever you brought it up I would think’ ‘really? again?’…” and I nodded sagely even as my face grew hot with humiliation because we were talking about his feelings about a friend who died recently and he has no idea what it’s going to be like.
Except maybe it’ll be different for him and that’s where the berating comes in for me. My husband is healthier than I’ll ever be in life. Maybe things will be different for him.
But for me, for now, I’ll keep inexplicably getting sad every year around the first week of May and the last week of June and then suddenly realizing why. I’ll keep telling Silas Happy Birthday on my blog even though that’s stupid and if he were alive he would think I’m pathetic and when he was alive he did think I was pathetic.
Grief is funny. Death is funny. It immortalizes people, turns them into what they are not. Were not.
Once in a restaurant with a dessert bar Silas sang a song called Mommy’s got a Sugar Buzz because it was so funny to him how someone so small could put away so many gummy bears. He said one day our kids would know that song and I’d never live it down.
My kids do know about my dessert bar fascination, that much is true.
I always get sad at this time of year, and the last week of June, also, so you’re not alone in it. And quit beating yourself up with the pathetic thing. That’s not quite how I remember things. I grant I don’t have the greatest memory in the world, but I don’t really remember him saying you were pathetic, and I don’t think he would think you were pathetic today. Just my $.02.
Long and short, I understand, even if no one else does.
Love you muchly!
Will
Thanks, Will. love you.