Saturday, September 23, 2006



Paradox
The one person who I want to talk to the most, and who can make sense of this, is the one person who I will never see again….never see again….never see again….
That was an interesting realization. I was driving home from work and it occurred to me. I will never see him again. I will never talk to him again. I will never feel his touch, hear his voice, see his smile. Never.

It seems like such an obvious conclusion when you think about death. Nevertheless, almost 3 months after the fact, it was something that stopped my breathing dead. Caused the all to familiar chest tightness and nausea. Made my mind dizzy and bewildered as to how this is possible…how can this be happening?

Paradox
As the cycle of grieving wears on, I find myself smiling more and crying less. I think about Cam and think of how wonderful he is…was. I have been out with friends and have actually started to experience the lightness of happiness again. Then I realized, the actual emotion of happiness itself reminds me of Cam. The carefree, light, relaxed and optimistic feelings that arise seem to transport me back in time. For the last two years I felt these feelings everytime I thought of Cam, saw him, talked to him. I am jolted back to reality when I realize I will never see him again. It's ironic. The one feeling I want so desperately to experience is the exact feeling that brings back boatloads of vivid memories.

I was reading one book called "Grieving: A Love Story" by Ruth Coughlin, shortly after the finality of Cam's death hit me. I read "What no one ever really tells you about is the one thing that should be the most obvious: that you will never see him again. The decedent. William J Coughlin, deceased. He was alive one dismal, rainy Saturday afternoon in April, and then he was dead. Never to be seen again."

It's amazing. For how individual grief is, it is also extremely universal. Just when you think no one knows how you are feeling your read a book by a woman named Ruth, who lost her husband named William, and every sentence mimics how Sandy is feeling when she lost Cam.

4 Comments:

At 10:30 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I know it's weird how we heal...not to be mistaken as forgetting. Good on you Sandy; it's the first step to the rest of your life. -T

 
At 3:30 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

There's a thing that keeps surprising you about larger-than-life friends after they die; their silence.

XO B

 
At 4:34 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Life can be pretty ugly, but, on the other hand, i guess we have to accept these realities, if we are to have a chance of healing. J

 
At 5:11 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Sandy, You speak from the heart and are able to convey your message. I hope you will keep writing. What you have said here is just amazing, sweet, touching and wonderful. A

 

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