A few years ago, long after someone I loved very much had died, I discovered that he had done something pretty much inexcusable. The thing is, what am I supposed to do with that? I can’t fight with him. I can’t hear his side of the story. I can’t kick his sorry butt out of my life. Having died, he’s pretty much trapped in amber, forever there, and yet not there. I’ll never know the full story. I’ll never know what possessed him to do something that awful.
And on the other side of the coin, when I was about 6 years old, in a fit of pique because my grandmother had broken a beloved toy of mine due to her failing vision, I called her stupid. And then she died shortly thereafter. I never got to apologize. It brings tears to my eyes whenever I think about it. It’s not like she did it on purpose. I hope she knew I was being a silly child. I hope she forgave me. I’ll never know.
I think the worst part of grief is the unfinished business. The things you never get to say. The things you never get to hear. The questions that will never be answered. Part of you seems forever frozen in time.
I’m thinking about this today, because I heard a great quote on Tales from the Loop, a TV show that I’m binge watching.
“Things are special because they don’t last.”
That’s very true. If we all lived forever, our relationships wouldn’t be special. They’d probably become tedious and we’d definitely take them for granted. There’d be no issues to resolve because we’d probably stop caring. We’d know each other so well that we’d have it all figured out, and nothing would really matter. Forever is a long time.
So I’m going to try to focus on the fact that there were special things in my unresolved relationships. There was good. I hope this will smooth out the amber that they are encased in in my heart. Because I hate having them surrounded by raw, jagged shards. It hurts.
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The View from a Drawbridge 