I was reading someone’s blog and they said
What I’m upset about is that this day should matter to someone else just as much as it does to me. … I’m feeling disappointed in the people around me, but it’s displaced anger. I’m not mad at them. This cross isn’t theirs to bear. I wish they were a little more supportive and a little more intuitive about how I might be feeling, but they’re all doing the best they know how to do.
It immediately made me think of how I feel about Dave’s death and how sometimes I feel like I’m the only one who still grieves. It makes me question myself, wondering if there’s something wrong with me that I can’t seem to get past it. And it often borders on resentment. I resent that they act like they don’t miss him, that they don’t feel like his death was unfair, that he’s just a bygone memory. And I believe they all have those feelings, but … are mine more intense? Maybe I just let mine bubble to the surface more.
Perhaps that’s really what bothers me. That I haven’t gotten to a place where I feel like I’m grieving appropriately. Maybe I should have seen a counselor when he first died. Maybe that way I could have worked through the feelings I had and found some effective ways to cope instead of just brushing it under the rug and plastering a smile on to hide my tears.
Maybe I’m upset that people don’t see how much I’m still bothered and don’t reach out. But then I remember how good I am at slapping a smile on so I don’t have to talk about it. That’s not really their fault, though I wish sometimes they’d just prod me until they got through to me.
Mostly, I want time to work its magic. It’s been five years since Dave died. It’s gotten easier to get used to the idea that I lost one of my closest friends forever. I hope the next five will be better.