I lost someone this past summer. I didn’t misplace him, he died. He was very young and it was tragic and it has caused immense pain in my community, starting in his family and rippling out to his friends and to the rest of us: the parents of his friends who are also the friends of his parents.
Grief, I am learning, is a strange thing. I think of this person a lot and at odd times. I see a book I know he liked. I am reminded of Yosemite and I remember our families’ trips there together. My van’s automatic doors open and I remember him describing them as being powered by “magical unicorns”. He has visited me in my dreams a couple of times since he died. It never makes much sense when he does, but there he is, and I wake feeling sad and have to remind myself that he is gone and he is never coming back.
I actually have to remind myself of that most days. Someone told me recently that she had a theory that we have many layers to our selves and each time I remind myself it is me informing another of my layers. I must have a lot of layers because it has been five months now and I am still reminding myself: he’s gone forever, he is never coming back.
I am not sure what inspired me to write this today. I was going to say that nothing reminded me of him today but now I remember seeing a book on our shelf that I know he liked. I didn’t seem him very often anymore and yet I still feel his loss in my life. I feel the loss of his potential. What he could have been and never will be. What my son will be now that he has dealt with this loss.
Anyway, grief, it’s what is on my mind these days. It is what is coloring my outlook on life most days. It is what I think about when everything else is quiet and my mind is not occupied.
It kind of sucks.
the sheep free knitter 