We want to acknowledge the griever’s pain, because we also know it as our own. We offer our hand, our clumsy platitudes, a cup of broth. But at some point we itch to move on to our lives, and leave the mourner to move on to his or hers. Not out of callousness, but out of the knowledge that in the end, grief is a lonely and entirely personal place. What we wish for the grieving is that they learn to pull away from the wild, unruly currents of mourning and rejoin us, knowing that nothing we say can really matter, because we know grief’s dark allure. In grief we sound the depths of our love. In that regard, it’s a private privilege. Society has no place there. - Deborah Jerome
I had that quote saved in a draft post for a long time. I don't remember putting it in the post. I thought I had just put some quotes from Roger Ebert in there, but I'm sure I got it from Sullivan's blog. I just don't remember doing it. My memory is spotty like that.
In grief we sound the depths of our love.
That's what I've been doing. My shrink thinks the meds should tone it down, but I don't think any medication could. For 10 years I held my love for John in a secret place, and when he passed, I could no longer hold it. It's been spilling out of me like a river of blood since. Twenty five pounds of my flesh turned into pangs of guilt, muscle spasms and tears.
I've been looking at pictures of John and I on trips. The pictures brought forgotten memories back. There isn't a picture where John doesn't look ridiculously happy. People tell me that he was, and that I had something to do with that. I do appreciate that sentiment, but that's not what my issue is now. The issue is that there will be no more. It's selfish, I know.
I got some things done today.. made an appointment with a psychiatrist (the 31st), the audiologist (the 18th), and went with Rex to get new tires for my G35. They had to be ordered and should arrive the middle of next week. Paid the U-Verse bill so the tv and internet stays on. Tomorrow I need to call the guy that can manage John's company phones. The $400 charge hit my account a couple days ago. John had used my personal credit card for the billing the last few months. I only need the one line that is mine.
Rex and I stopped to get some food, and we ended up at a Pei Wei that John and I used to eat at when we went to the movies. The fortune cookie read "Great acts of kindness will befall you in the coming months".
I cried while trying to choke down food that I have no interest in. I looked over at where John and I would always sit and only saw the ghosts of a happy couple.