I have been grieving in one stage or another for over a year. I know that death is part of life and that grief is a necessary part of healing. I've been working on it.
Today is the memorial for a good man. He went missing in August. His body was found in September, right smack between the anniversaries of losing Kate and Bryan. Now I have a trifecta of grief.
But people are sick of me being sad, unhappy, full of sorrow. I'm working to see the joy in those lives, to celebrate all that I learned from them. I mourn the experiences we won't have. I see-saw between remembering every single detail of all our interactions, and wanting oblivion from memories.
This past week, I turned to movies and books to give me strength and distract me. I read non-fiction, watched documentaries. The architect's mistress was brutally murdered, the activist was eaten by bears and the whale was killed by a tugboat. The latter was the final straw. I stared at my DNi in horror when the film ended. The first two weren't a surprise but The Whale? That was my cheering movie. That was my happy ending reward for surviving the week.
It occurs to me as I write this that there similarities between my entertainment choices and my friends. I suspected Kate and Bryan had finite time here enriching our lives. Darrell was big and playful like the whale, intent on forging friendships and erasing boundaries, preconceptions and the way the world interacts with each other.
Instead of therapy, I talk to my friends, process over here and try to make sense of that which simply is. Grief can't be explained, understood or rationalized. It takes its time, does its thing and cannot be ignored.
Resistance is futile. Grief will find its way in. No matter how I tried to avoid it this week, it found me. Today, I embrace the sorrow, revel in the good memories and mourn the ones we will not make.