I’m coming up on an anniversary.
It was a year ago that my husband died…pretty unexpectedly.
There is a long, strange story that led up to his passing and some trauma in finding that he had died…and then telling the family.
Initially, of course, after someone passes there are things that have to be done. Funeral arrangements, legal arrangements, family arrangements…all the arrangements that come at the end of human life. And all those things - the ceremonies and such that we go through are an important part of the process of saying goodbye…closure…healing…a benediction.
But then what?
It’s amazing to me how fast life goes on. Someone significant is no longer there but the sun rises and the sun sets, seasons change and work happens, holidays come, traditions are kept and the gap closes so quickly…almost like dropping a penny in a snow bank.
Except for the grief.
I’ve been thinking lately though that I’m almost grateful for grief. I’m happy for the chance to smile through tears when I hear a familiar phrase – a reminder of some private joke. I’m grateful for the bittersweet feelings when I hear a certain song. I’m glad for the flood of memories that come with certain mementoes.
Grief is the proof that someone was really there.