Nobody goes through grief in the same way. This thought occurred to her as she sat in the empty room.
She had seen other people lose their parents, siblings, spouses, friends, family. She had seen the devastation these things wrought upon their soul.
As for her, she was still numb.
She had gone through the funeral planning process and the funeral in a daze. She had hazily sat for the will reading. She took the hugs, the gifts, the offerings from the sad faces with the appropriate amount of grace and humility.
And now, she was here. Clearing out the house and cleaning up the last bits of his life.
She opened a box and began to sort through it. Bills, letters, and various bits of a life once lived that was now at the end.
And then, she came across a photograph. It was just a simple thing, a photo in a frame of her and him when she was just a little girl. She had bows in her hair and was looking up at him with a look that was full of love and happiness. He was looking down at her with the same.
And suddenly, despair washed over her in a wave that knocked her breathless. She let out a howl from the depths of her soul and slung the picture across the room.
It smashed against the fireplace with a most satisfactory crash.
And then, she was up and ripping open boxes and throwing the contents all around. She had to hear that crashing, smashing again. She dumped boxes, she ripped open closets, and all the while, she was screaming like she had never heard herself scream before. She had to destroy these things.
She must destroy all of these things.
She smashed and crashed and screamed, and she didn’t grieve for any of it at all.
And when she was done, she finally let herself cry.
There were so many things I wanted to tell you that day on the porch. The sun was shining through the trellis making shadows. I always tried to find something in those shadows. I listened to you ramble on as I thought in my head the things that I wanted to burst forth violently through my screaming mouth.
I wanted to tell you that we were free. That the world didn’t own us, we were ourselves, our young, bright, idealistic selves. That it was ok to be you, even when you weren’t with me. I wanted to tell you that there wasn’t anyone else in the world I wanted as my friend than you. I wanted to tell you that my life didn’t even begin until you passed me that note.
I wanted to tell you that this moment was going to be forever. That this is how I would always remember you.
And then, the shadows began to swirl and fade as the night wrapped its cool arms around us.
I walked away from the porch, smiled and waved.
And as my footsteps quickened into a blinding run, I knew it was the last time I would see you. Because life swallows you up and moves you along until all of your memories seem as though they never were.
About a week ago, my daughter, who is 15, got a friend request from the little boy who lived down the street from us and was her best friend when she was 8 to 10 years old. They had pokemon battles and performed “The Banana Show” (for a fee of course) in our backyard for all of the other kids in the neighborhood. He was a sweet little boy and I was sad for my daughter when we had to move away.
She came bursting into my room ( and almost out of her skin) the other day yelling, OHMYGODMOM. Charlie found me! “
They have been talking nonstop since.
Apparently, he is going to be on this side of the water next weekend and they are going to the movies and hanging out etc.
She is over the moon.
It’s the most adorable fucking thing I have ever seen.