Well, it's that day again. One of the hardest things that I had to accept, in the very moments after Pierre died, was the certain knowledge that I would have to face this day, every year, for the rest of my life.
Just knowing that was a burden I was not sure I could bear.
But bear up I have. I don't know that I've marked the day publicly as much as I expected to, but then I haven't been able to simply ignore it the way I hoped I might. My first thought has held true, alas, and even if I say nothing to anyone, the day has a meaning that I cannot escape.
So, I don't even try to escape. Nor do I allow myself to wallow in self-pity and sorrow. I have to find some path in between the polarizing emotions of grief and apathy. The day will never come that I do not grieve, just a little, nor will there be a day on which I no longer care. Pulsing, vibrating, oscillating always between these two poles, there are days when I go a whole hour before I think of him and then there are days like today, when each moment is its own bubble, rising slowly through my viscous consciousness in a seemingly endless stream.
Knowing that things will get better makes it easier to get through days like this. Meditating helps. Sunlight helps. Love and friendship helps.
It's a day that I hesitate to mark publicly, but I have hopes that someone else will remember. Even if they say nothing, those who remember Pierre on this day add meaning and purpose to my life and I am grateful for their love.
Just knowing that was a burden I was not sure I could bear.
But bear up I have. I don't know that I've marked the day publicly as much as I expected to, but then I haven't been able to simply ignore it the way I hoped I might. My first thought has held true, alas, and even if I say nothing to anyone, the day has a meaning that I cannot escape.
So, I don't even try to escape. Nor do I allow myself to wallow in self-pity and sorrow. I have to find some path in between the polarizing emotions of grief and apathy. The day will never come that I do not grieve, just a little, nor will there be a day on which I no longer care. Pulsing, vibrating, oscillating always between these two poles, there are days when I go a whole hour before I think of him and then there are days like today, when each moment is its own bubble, rising slowly through my viscous consciousness in a seemingly endless stream.
Knowing that things will get better makes it easier to get through days like this. Meditating helps. Sunlight helps. Love and friendship helps.
It's a day that I hesitate to mark publicly, but I have hopes that someone else will remember. Even if they say nothing, those who remember Pierre on this day add meaning and purpose to my life and I am grateful for their love.
