Way back in 2019 Vince and I attended a charity event and, since we were all gussied up, Vince asked someone take our picture. It was a wonderful, memorable evening.
Back in 2019, we didn’t know that in a few months’ time, we
would be isolated because of a thing called Covid. We didn’t know we would
eventually catch the virus ourselves.
We didn’t know that a few months after that, Vince would be
gone.
So we didn’t know that we needed to celebrate each moment
with smiles and photos so that five years later I could look back and remember
the fun we had.
Actually, though, that’s what Vince always did – he documented all the moments, big and small. And because he did, I have tangible proof of my happy life with him, even though it was only thirteen short years.
Recently, that photo came up in my memories on Facebook, so
I had to repost it. Lots of people posted kind comments and there were more
than 140 “likes.”
So I started looking at the names of friends and family who
liked it. And, as I was scrolling down the list, I became teary-eyed.
Because all those people were telling me that they care.
About me. About Vince. And they were letting me know it was okay to post that
photo.
That even though we are approaching the three-year mark
since he has been gone, my friends and family understand that it’s okay to
remember him. Three years seems like so long ago, but – to me – it also seems
like it happened yesterday.
For some who haven’t lost anyone significant in their lives,
it may be difficult to understand that grief never goes away. That it sometimes
softens with time. And it’s perhaps not as paralyzing as it was in the
beginning. But that those feelings of grief will come and go – probably forever.
That the person who grieves might go on with life as if
nothing is wrong – and if you ask them how they are, they will invariably
respond, “fine,” but that may be the furthest from the truth.
Or maybe they are fine. (Grief can be confusing!)
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Sometimes it only takes a scent of the cologne they wore, or their favorite meal printed on a menu to bring the grief back.
Or it may be a photo of a happy occasion that does it.
But most people who are grieving are not broken. We are repairing
our shattered hearts and going on as our loved ones would want us to. We have
good days and bad days, like everyone else.
Some people are not okay with grief. With allowing a person
to express their memories or their sadness. Or their joy over a funny memory.
They don’t want anyone to bring up the name of the person who passed.
I ask, “Why?”
Why is it so uncomfortable? Are they afraid the person who is
mourning will burst into uncontrollable tears?
And to that, I ask, “So what?”
What’s the worst that will happen? Maybe they need that cathartic
cry and will feel better when they’re done. If someone viewing such a display is
uncomfortable, just grab some tissues, hand them to the person crying and step
back.
Chances are, if a memory is brought up about a deceased
loved one, the person grieving will latch onto that memory. We love hearing
their name. We love hearing stories about them. What better way to honor their
life by remembering them?
Recently, I read a post by a woman in my Widows/Widowers
group on Facebook who said that the last time she attended a gathering with her
late husband’s family, she proposed a toast to him. She had hoped his family
would join in and bring up a happy memory or say a few kind words about him.
But no one did.
And she was so saddened by this. Particularly since he had passed
only three months before. And it was his family.
More recently, one of his family members asked her not to
bring up his name or propose a toast to him at the next family gathering. She
was devastated by this and considered not going to the event. She wanted opinions
of the people in our private group about what she should do.
I thought this was so disheartening.
Of course, I don’t know the particulars. Was there family
strife? Was it a happy occasion (birthday for their 90-year-old grandmother, family
wedding, or baby shower) where her timing was off and a toast to her deceased
husband was maybe not the most appropriate thing?
Nevertheless, I hope that my family and friends will never
stop me from mentioning Vince. And I hope it’s not uncomfortable for them,
because it’s not for me.
Now, granted, I try not to talk only about him. You know – exclusively. I get that that could be uncomfortable and a little repetitive. I try to keep the Vince mentions down to an appropriate level and if I’m talking about the price of paper towels, for example, I don’t try to tie his name into it.
Because, really, who wants to talk about the price of paper
towels? And anyone who knew him would wonder at my sanity that I’m bringing
Vince’s name into a story about the price of paper towels.
But if we’re talking about a great rack of ribs, or the
perfect fire pit fire, well, all bets are off. Vince was the most amazing
grillmast…uh…
…perhaps I’ll save that story for another day.
