The day after

Yesterday was the 1 month anniversary of Marcellus becoming an angel.  We had a memorial service at our home for him.  We did that for a couple reasons.  One, my Wife did not want to go back to her building and have to tell everyone the story on a 1 to 1 basis or have them too shy to talk about it.  And secondly, we are so proud of him we wanted to show him off!  It was a pretty good memorial service, I had no idea how to go about it so I just started talking and I ended up telling his story.  It was hard to share his story in such a public matter but it was also such a relief to have everyone attention on me and willing to hear my story.  I even got tears from some people.  My Wife was concerned that we were not crying while telling the story but in reality that would have not worked because who can tell a story when you are crying.  I definitely had to fight the tears, not because I do not feel like I can cry but because I wanted everyone else to hear the story.

I do cry, I cry alot.  The Wife and I broke down at 12:43 pm yesterday because that is the time he died.  We cried hard for a good 30 minutes reliving all the raw, painful memories of his death.  The only difference was it did not feel numb like a month earlier.  The numbness has worn off so it was complete despair and sadness, a type of crying where you feel your breaths are not bringing in any oxygen and the whole room is crashing in around you.  The type of sadness where you feel nothing is possible, basic functions of life are impossible, there is no escaping this sadness, ever.  Like the waves of grief it passed, and we were able to drag ourselves out of bed an hour or so later and start preparing. 

I am glad we were able to show his story to people who wanted to be there for us and him.  Grief is loneliness, emptiness.  Especially for me I feel terribly alone, to be surrounded by people who wanted to be with me and hear me talk was humbling and very comforting. 

One of the older ladies, my Wifes department secretaries was there and she told us a story of her older brother Dave who was the same age as Marcellus when he died (12 days).  57 years to the day her Dad still cannot talk about Dave or mention his name and its killing him.  These were the days when men were to 'suck it up' and 'be strong, do not cry' or 'its best to forget about him and not talk about it.'  That type of coping is alien to me, that type of coping would destroy me.  If I was suppose to do that I would retreat into my mind and become an alcoholic.  I am glad no one has said that to me yet because they would probably be a release for my anger which builds on itself. 

Grief feels like a job now, we have been doing this for a month straight and I feel like each day we punch in but never punch out.  There are no scheduled hours, just you have to work.  Grief is our life, someday we will manage it, not today though.