Grief Song

The snow has returned, and with it my dismal attitude. I have been in a strange sort of funk lately, alternating between an anxious twitter and a lethargic slouch. I think that I as I work through my grief I avoid really thinking about the bigger implications. I mean, I don't want to think of the future or contemplate what could possibly make me happy. It isn't that I don't want to be happy, it is more that when I really think about it there is nothing in my life right now (other than Gloria) that truly makes me happy. I miss the give and take of marriage, the partnership, the comfort, the ease of conversation, the silly Saturday mornings and the familiar grumblings. Kevin is still so much a part of me, but it is a one-way relationship that leaves me feeling exposed and reckless at times. I miss him so very intensely.

On the plus side I have been trying to be more vocal about what is helpful for me. For instance, I told my dad that I really want to talk about Kevin and know that other people remember him. Initially my dad looked uncomfortable, but then he shared that every time he sits at the computer he thinks about how much Kevin helped to put it together and keep it running. My dad doesn't open up easily so I really appreciated this moment. I think that people fear talking about Kevin or about my grief because they think that it either makes it worse for me or because they feel like they don't know how to comfort me. I know that nothing is going to take this hurt away, nothing can bring back my Kevin, but every time someone is sad with me, prays for or with me, or tells me of their memory of Kevin I feel comforted by the knowledge that he mattered, he is remembered and he is still loved. Knowing that allows me to release a little of that possessive sadness that Kevin is gone from my life.