Melancholy

Mmm . . . this is going to be a hard post. But it is something that has been on my heart lately.

Most of my life, through my sophomore year in college, I had been blessed by the fact that I had experienced very little loss in my life. I was one of the few people who knew all four of their grandparents (I am still blessed in that respect) and I even knew both of my great-grandmothers.

Sure, I had had pets die. I particularly remember four kittens that I had played nursemaid to because their mother had died and they hadn't been weened yet. That was a very sad day for me.

When my great-grandmothers died . . . I don't know how to explain it. It seemed distant. I don't know . Maybe it seemed more distant because I was unable to go the funerals and it didn't seem quite as real. Just a kind of fading away.

Not that I didn't love them. Because I did. And I have great memories of them that I drag out of my dusty brain and ponder every once in a while.

It wasn't until a few years ago that a death smacked me in the face and grief made me lose my breath.

It was my first experience of a person truly dear to my heart dying. It was unexpected, even though it occurred during a surgical procedure. All indications were that it would be routine and would have a positive outcome. It was of a young person. A friend who I had graduated from college with, who I had seen months before and had talked to days before.

Still, today, this week, this month, I feel the grief catch hold for a few moments. Until I remember where she is now. Until I remember the bright light she was. Until I remember the bright light she will always be in my life.