The Carousel of Grief

+ recipe for Anisette Biscuits

An old photo of us rests on my desk. I start and end each work day with him by my side. The little bobble head wooden turtle he bought for me from Martha’s Vineyard 25 years ago sits underneath me in the photo, and under his picture is a mini Badtz-Maru figure that came in one of the kids’ mystery boxes years ago. Neither of them were interested in it, but knowing it was one of his favorite characters, I claimed it for myself.

I cannot stop missing him, and it’s slowly wearing me down.

Why did he have to die?

Why?

I keep asking this question as if there’s any suitable answer. Is it possible there’s a grief so deep from which one can never recover. Dare I utter this aloud—but sometimes I wonder if it’s him I miss, or the way he loved me…or the life we had together. I know the answer is all of the above, and yet I feel guilty even asking myself the question.

I’ve been asking him to come to me in my dreams so we can just hang out. I miss our evening routine of drinking tea and watching television. It’s been almost 14 years since we’ve shared a cup together, and yet I remember the routine so clearly. I still find it hard to drink tea alone.

I’m so tired of grieving him, and writing that riddles me with guilt. How dare I be tired of grieving when he’s the one who suffered a terrible sudden death, and was robbed of seeing our children grow up? How dare I be tired of grieving when our children have had to grow up without knowing his love or guidance? In a way I feel like I lost everything, and yet lost less than everyone else involved.