Picturing grief

I found Mark last night looking at old pictures on the computer. I asked him if it was hard for him to look at the pictures. He nodded with tears in his eyes. "Especially this one," he said and clicked on a picture of Ken leading him by the hand into the shallow water of June Lake on their annual fishing trip. I told him that it seemed like whenever I am feeling especially low I find myself replaying memories or drawn to looking at pictures. I know what I'm doing is probably going to make me feel even worse, but I can't seem to help myself. But maybe, I told him, that's the point. Maybe feeling so low every now and then is necessary. Maybe the grief gets stored up for so long and then finds a way to be released. I left Mark looking at the pictures and checked on him later. He had moved on to reading the comics online. The grief is still there, I know, but so are the pictures.

A compliment, I think

I was talking to a woman who recently went through a very bitter divorce. I braced myself for the "losing my husband through divorce is just as bad as what you experienced" speech, but it didn't come. In fact, she said something to the effect that while her divorce seemed to have brought out the very worst in herself and her husband and her son, Ken's diagnosis and death had brought out the best in my family. In her observation, my husband, my children and I grew stronger, got closer and matured because of our ordeal.

Months ago, I probably would not have understood what she meant. Now I have the advantage of perspective and see that she is right about us. However, I would still give just about anything to not have grown in this way.