Our Amir should be 41 today. This whole week has been difficult and I wonder if I should just hibernate the first week of April every year? Sigh... I still have so much trouble with the sad fact that it just does not get easier. In fact, at times it feels more difficult and heavy now than it did two years ago. The more time goes by, the longer he's not here, the more lost I feel without him.
Two of his favorite bands released new albums recently (Spoon, a few weeks ago, and The New Pornographers, TODAY) and fuck if he wouldn't love them. He turned me on to Spoon years ago and would be thrilled at how much I like their new album. I'm so shredded that I can't talk to him about it. And he was so crazy about Neko Case and TNP... he'd surely be raving about that album, too.
That's really the thing about grief. Of course, we all feel destroyed that Amir's life was cut short, that he didn't get to accomplish so much of what he wanted to, that he didn't deserve to die. And of course, we all miss him in different ways at various times and constantly. But the hardest part is just the longing to have one more conversation, one more late-night phone marathon, one more hug. The constant longing to simply hear his voice and his laugh. The longing to hear his opinion on something mundane like a movie or album or on something important like what's happening in the world.
A few weeks ago, my family celebrated my cousin Arik's wedding in Mexico. The joy and love and happiness was so full and tangible... we all love Courtenay and were so thrilled to be there together to celebrate their love. And yet, for me, Amir's absence loomed so large and heavy and painful. I hate that my longing for him diminishes every family gathering, but how could it not? He should have been there. He should have been part of the celebration. HE SHOULD BE HERE WITH US NOW. That feeling will NEVER change.
I don't believe in mediums or seances or things of that nature, though I put aside my skepticism when friends or family who are grieving decide to try it. Who am I to tell them I think it's bullshit? If it gives them comfort, I fully support it. Even though I'm skeptical, I must admit I'm curious and I can understand their reasoning--it comes from something I do understand: the overwhelming longing to have some connection with our lost loved ones. What I wouldn't give to tell Amir we all love him and miss him and to hear he's at peace. If I had any real indication that a medium could offer me that, I'd try it. Skepticism goes out the window when grief takes over.
Anyway, I've gone off on several tangents--it's because I haven't written in a while and I'm overflowing with thoughts... I just miss Amir so much. Not only on his birthday but every single fucking day, my thoughts are never far from him for more than minutes at a time.
That's really the thing about grief. Of course, we all feel destroyed that Amir's life was cut short, that he didn't get to accomplish so much of what he wanted to, that he didn't deserve to die. And of course, we all miss him in different ways at various times and constantly. But the hardest part is just the longing to have one more conversation, one more late-night phone marathon, one more hug. The constant longing to simply hear his voice and his laugh. The longing to hear his opinion on something mundane like a movie or album or on something important like what's happening in the world.
A few weeks ago, my family celebrated my cousin Arik's wedding in Mexico. The joy and love and happiness was so full and tangible... we all love Courtenay and were so thrilled to be there together to celebrate their love. And yet, for me, Amir's absence loomed so large and heavy and painful. I hate that my longing for him diminishes every family gathering, but how could it not? He should have been there. He should have been part of the celebration. HE SHOULD BE HERE WITH US NOW. That feeling will NEVER change.
I don't believe in mediums or seances or things of that nature, though I put aside my skepticism when friends or family who are grieving decide to try it. Who am I to tell them I think it's bullshit? If it gives them comfort, I fully support it. Even though I'm skeptical, I must admit I'm curious and I can understand their reasoning--it comes from something I do understand: the overwhelming longing to have some connection with our lost loved ones. What I wouldn't give to tell Amir we all love him and miss him and to hear he's at peace. If I had any real indication that a medium could offer me that, I'd try it. Skepticism goes out the window when grief takes over.
Anyway, I've gone off on several tangents--it's because I haven't written in a while and I'm overflowing with thoughts... I just miss Amir so much. Not only on his birthday but every single fucking day, my thoughts are never far from him for more than minutes at a time.
Ayelet: I am a skeptic too. Very much so. But as a nurse, I took a Hospice training, probably 25 years ago and I facilitated grief groups for a couple of years in Hemet, California, associated to the Visiting Nurses of the Inland Empire. I am hear to tell you that some of the accounts I herd from survivor could NOT be made up. Stories about direct connections and connections through mediums. I have had a few experiences of my own, mostly Deja Vu. This does no make me less skeptical, it has just opened my mind to the possibility and to the "what if?" It is specially poignant when the account comes from children who have not been privy to details that they somehow just KNOW. I wanted to share this with you! Be well.
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