Sunday, February 8, 2015

The Flowers Are Gone

We had one white rose from Sarge's memorial and some geraniums from Jonathan's memorial.

Sarge's rose sat on the table directly across from my recliner. Jonathan's geraniums sat in a wooden French wine crate Carol has creatively adapted for flower and plant display, directly across from the couch.

I looked at these flowers a lot from mid December on. I'm sure Carol did too.

They have been gone now for a little bit, although I noticed the rose limply resting in a small vase on the counter next to the sink just today.

If I may be so presumptive, I'm guessing Carol is having a hard time getting rid of it. Or maybe she has plans for it.

As I watched the flowers fade, it became symbolic to me of how grieving is supposed to work.

In the beginning there is intense pain and sadness. In the beginning the flowers are beautiful in a sad and defiant way.

Eventually the mind finds a way to absorb the loss and the pain lessens. The harshness of the reality fades. Eventually flowers fade away and die.

That is how it is supposed to work.

It is not working that way for me.

My mind continues to randomly recognize the fact that Jonathan and Sarge are gone. I keep grimacing. Tears keep on coming. I keep shaking my head in disbelief.

At work, at home, alone and around others, when it is quiet, when it is busy, outside, inside.

Everywhere I go in every situation.

February 16 and 17 will mark only two months since the shock. Only two months, although it feels much longer to me.

Inexorably so.

I can't say whether or not the pain and the sense of loss will ever fade. I don't think I want them to.

It is meaningful to me in a way that I just don't understand at this point.

I want Jonathan and Sarge with me always, in tears and in smiles.

No comments:

Post a Comment