Last year at this time, we were surrounded by people who came from near and far to be with us. This year, we will be alone.
When Molly first died, I was sure that I didn't even want to know the actual date of her death; the thought being, I am sure, that if I didn't know the date, I could avoid these anniversaries. The idea of ritually observing her death every year was more than I could even imagine two years ago.
Of course, avoiding the anniversaries was naive for many reasons - one of which being Molly's death was not just a loss for me and Frances. Molly was loved by many people who have the date of her death engraved on their hearts. I can assure you, for example, that folks will post remembracnces on Facebook this week.
It was also a naive thought becuase it is impossible to avoid re-living Moly's death; I re-live it every day - no anniversary required.
Naive or not, two years ago I was adamant that Molly's death would not be observed. So, I was suprised - and grateful - last year when folks gathered with us. We rented a room at a local restuarant for a nice lunch, had folks over, played wii, drank too much, and got through it For us, and for those who love us and Molly, it was improtant to gather and to remember.
It was also an important marker - we had made it throught the first of every milestone date without Molly: her birthday, Christmas, Thanksgiving, any day at all.
This year, however, no observance is planned. To be honest, I will probably miss it. But the reality is that Molly's death IS, in some ways, over. Two years out, there is no solace in observing it.
Her life is surely not over. But it is time to put an end to her death.
No comments:
Post a Comment