Overwhelmed

Grief is a brutal pain from which there is no immediate relief.  Only short respites and it begins again. Tears come in waves, without warning, and when least expected. In the middle of a conversation, in the car, anywhere. Have I been here before? Yes and no. I have lost relatives, my parents, friends and acquaintances. None have affected me as much as the passing of my friend of 42 years.

Resentment? Yes. For wasted time, for anger, for being left behind. Questions? Yes. Why him? Why are others still here? Knowing that I can't change a damn thing. I know the platitudes: Time will ease all pain. Joy comes in the morning. God had other plans. You have such wonderful memories. Yes but the pain is overwhelming; the tears unending.

Experts say that the length of mourning and the depth depends upon the individual. That it may last a few weeks or a lifetime.  Others say talk it out. I can't say his name, conjure up his image, remember a trip or experience without dissolving into tears.  The grief is overwhelming.

He spoiled me and I took it for granted. That 8:30 p.m. call which usually came without fail until the final days. The arrival every 4 to 6 weeks. Being available whenever I had somewhere to go. The advice which, whenever I didn't take it, was always true.  Last year, Nov. 9th, we celebrated my 70th birthday.  This year, the tears flow and the pain is overwhelming.

In one of our last conversations, he told me that he knew how much I loved him. How I wish that I had told him more often. Touched him more often. I started sending him music videos toward the end as a reminder of our time together. Jean Carne, Phyllis Hyman, Patti LaBelle, and others. Artists whom we'd seen and or enjoyed their music.  On his last trip here, I told him that he had to beat the cancer because we had so many more memories to make.

The pain is overwhelming. 

All the Best.