There is always going to be day at work that I wish I could forget. I guess I don't want to forget the day but perhaps the moment.
A little old man came in to tell us that his wife had passed away and we could pick up the (palliative) equipment he had rented. He was trying to be so brave and smile but he had tears in his eyes and was trying desperately to hold it together. He is of the day when men did not cry. To cry showed weakness. To cry meant you were a wimp, a sissy or "gay". Where does this backward thinking come from? Why would a man think for a moment he can not openly grieve the passing of his life partner? All I could do is nod understandingly and tell him our thoughts are with him.
Speaking of death. Those of you have been reading with me know my Nana passed away in May. The night before last the grief rolled over me again. I wanted to see her so bad. I wanted to call her on the phone.  I wanted to hear her voice. I wanted to tell her how much I love her and how much I miss her.
I find as time passes the grief is not as intense but in many ways it is more bitter. I don't want to feel "o.k" about not being able to see her again! I see so many things around my home that were gifts that she had given me. I touch them as though I am in some way touching her. It feels so empty though.