Grief.

I have learned this past year that grief is strange.  It is also very personal and most certainly not one size fits all.  Kevin was a huge part of our lives.  I do not think we will ever get over 'it' or get over him.  We will move on with our lives, but the grief will still come.  It comes at the strangest times.  For Sidney, it was the smell of Naked Bee lotion one day.  Lisa had bought Kevin some while he was in the hospital.  I had squeezed the last of it onto my hands a few months back and darted out to a 4H meeting.  Sidney came over to hug me goodbye and smelled the lotion.  It immediately brought tears to her eyes, as it reminded her of her daddy.  For Kendall, it was the father and daughter dance at a wedding we attended this summer.  She tried to contain her sadness, but it was too much.  She told me it was sad to know that her daddy would not be at her wedding some day.  For me, it is the unexpected things.  The quail bombarding me in the garage, just like an Alfred Hitchcock movie (I will save that one for another blog).  That morning, I could literally hear his laugh as I ran shrieking into the house.  It was also the first night of parenting class.  I had no idea that the wave of grief would overcome me, as I sat there and realized that I was the  only single parent in the group.  

I have also realized how much the world around us does not understand death, nor how to respond, myself included.  I find myself often holding my feelings in, so that I do not make others feel uncomfortable.  I find that most of the world thinks that their is an expiration on the time allowed for grief.  Still others have avoided us and are afraid to mention Kevin's name or ask how we are doing, because they do not want us to be upset.  I often find myself secretly urging people to ask, to please acknowledge the huge gaping hole that has been left in our lives.  

When my parents came to live with us, my mom commented that she could see and hear Kevin in every room.  She did not mean it in the 'ghostly, haunted fashion'.  She just meant that his presence was here.  His laughter was here.  The memories of him walking from place to place in the house and him sitting in his favorite chair were so vivid.  

We often laugh about the silly things he did or the stories he told.  We also cry at the thought that we will not get a last hug or a last kiss.  The other day, one of the men in the parenting group asked me what personality traits each of the girls got from Kevin.  For Kendall, it is her sense of adventure.  For Sidney, it is her stubbornness (sorry) and her quiet determination.  I was so surprised by this question, as I had not really thought about it.  I was also incredibly grateful for this question, as he was acknowledging what a significant part of our lives Kevin was and will always be.  

Yes, grief is weird.  I am still not sure how to process it.  As we approach the one year mark, I find myself reflecting almost hourly.  Everything brings me back to one year ago, when we did not realize how much precious little time we had left.  Grief has made me more compassionate.  Grief has made me softer.  Grief has made me experience the highest of highs and the lowest of lows.  The past year has been surreal.  We heal a bit more each day.  We have beautiful lives.  We will enjoy every moment that we get here on earth, but I have learned all too well that our life here is short.  Above all else, when it is over, everything that we have acquired and achieved here stays behind.