Grief is a funny thing. It shows up in moments that you least expect. Rears it’s ugly head as a way to remind you that life isn’t what it used to be. Nowhere is safe. It’s always there, just under the surface. Waiting.
On this day it happened during the mundane. I stopped to get the mail as we always did on our way home from school. Tossed it on the counter in the kitchen with my keys. Got the girls settled and then began sifting through the pile. About 90% of the mail we get is addressed to people that lived in this house long before we did. Most of it goes right to the trash.
As I sorted and my pile of trash grew, my hand brushed the next envelope and paused. There it was. Addressed to Cameron Graham.
My heart skipped a beat. I ran my fingers over his name. Picked up the envelope and held it to my heart. I looked at it one more time before adding it to the trash pile.
This is one of those moments that rips my heart out and makes me smile all at the same time. Believe me it’s a real emotion that should have a name. I now live for these moments, as painful as they are.
It was a newsletter from his physical therapist. His therapy had ended the year before. It was after his achilles surgery. They had no idea what happened. We never called to give them the news and ask that he be removed from their mailing list. This was actually the 2nd newsletter we have received since his death.
A part of me was so happy to see his name on a piece of mail. It validates that he lived. It’s something I need every once and a while.
New normal is hard. I am constantly reminding myself that he was here. He was a part of this. My body moves forward and does what it’s supposed to do. My numbness allows me to continue. After a while the body seems to forget what that life felt like. The heart never does. It’s such a strange existence.
So today I was thankful for that piece of mail. Seeing his name. Being reminded by an external force that he was here. My heart knows he still is.