Yesterday was the anniversary of my son’s death.  I thought I was gonna be okay, but grief has its own insidious way of sneaking up on you.  The last week or so has been very emotional for my wife and me.  We sold our house in Kentucky and bought one in Florida all in one week.  We, mostly my wife, have been divesting ourselves of our possessions and the accumulations of 37 years of marriage.  Everything has memories or attachments.  We try to tell ourselves they are just “things”, but the heart feels what the heart feels.

It is the oddest things that make me lose it:  a Facebook post or an old father’s day card or a picture in an old brochure.  I try to hold my emotions close just because I don’t want them shared by anyone else.  Even as I sit here writing this, I am trying hard to keep the tears at bay.  Part of me doesn’t want to leave Kentucky because he is buried here, but most of me wants to go so I won’t be constantly reminded about him.  I wish one of my doctor’s could give me an anti-grief pill.

In a month, I’ll be sitting on the dock with a cold beverage and a fishing pole.  I hope I don’t catch much because I don’t want to clean them.  Even that will bring memories flooding back, but I hope they are the good memories and not the ones that bring a tear.  A tear here and there is cleansing and good for the soul.  I have mostly good days and a few bad hours sprinkled in; that’s progress I guess.  Thanks for letting me cry on your shoulders for a few minutes.

 

You only grieve for the ones you love.