A Memorial Service

I knew your family wanted a memorial service in your honor forty days after your death.  When the time came to actually be there, I didn’t know how much this would open up my grief again.  Like a spasm, this wave of sadness and overwhelming grief washes over me like an unwelcome stranger.

I don’t want to go to this memorial service and cry all over again.  I don’t want my heart ripped open and exposed to prying eyes.  I don’t want to put myself in a vulnerable state unable to deny that this pain is something that I need to contain.  I don’t want to feel like I am “dying” again.

I can’t face your family and friends in a partying mode celebrating your life as if this was normal.  Nothing is normal about losing you — the only man I ever loved.  I’m not ready to celebrate your life and pretend that everything is alright.

I can’t face this loss without breaking apart so I will hold off.  I just want to be left alone in this grief to sort out my feelings.  I just want this pain to go away.    I am not ready to celebrate your life without admitting I lost you.  This is a twin dilemma intimately intertwined and difficult to unravel.  There is no living when a part of me is dead.