The Birthday Man Is Missing
“My father hasn’t attended his birthday party in three years. Grief took his place.
Grief is one of those things that’s hard to explain to someone who has never experienced it.
When you first lose someone, there’s an initial shock followed by a sense of agency. It’s almost as if you’re avoiding the first step of grief by distracting yourself from the immediate aftermath of death.
“Call the hospital.”
“Find a funeral home.”
“Inform everyone of what’s just happened.”
It isn’t until that shock wears off that there’s a semblance of it. Grief starts to peek from the shadows once the flood of people coming in and out of your house starts to fade. People you haven’t seen in years come to express their condolences with white flowers, a symbol of purity and an implicit demonstration of their sympathy.
Once those flowers begin to wilt and wither, an emptiness begins to settle. With every ache in your body, you wonder when this feeling will go away, but the truth is that that emptiness becomes your new normal.
Grief stops for no one. The world continues as if that life-altering experience didn’t just occur, so you have to keep going.
