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Saying Good-bye

It has almost been a year since Ron died. Of all the losses, I feel his most acutely. The kids have healed slightly, nothing exactly right. They cannot talk about him. They cannot leave his things behind. They talk of going to the cemetery this weekend on the anniversary, and I think they should forget about it. Seems to me that it will only be slicing open a wound that is having trouble healing. His passing has been a cut straight through to the bone for all of us and to revisit it, even annually, is only picking at the scab.

 Death is never easy. I have experienced loss of both parents, so I know what they are going through. How on earth do you comfort your children, although they are not babies anymore, when they are so against moving on? If you do not discuss your feelings you bottle them all up inside and nothing clears out. I worry about this aspect of their grieving most of all.

 Maybe going to his grave will be the period at the end of this year-long sentence of pain for them. I am at a crossroads with it all. I guess it has been easier for me because I had been saying good-bye to the man for over twenty years. His death was just one more of the good-byes I had to experience since meeting him so long ago.

When we divorced, it was to prevent my children pain of this loss. What a fool I was to think they would be less harmed by being distanced a little.  You love your parents unconditionally, no matter how bad at parenting they are. And when they die, you hurt. You hurt with a capital letter. It's been ten years since I lost my mother and nine since I lost my dad and I miss them everyday, and I cry over that loss at least once a week.

Saying good-bye really is the hardest thing we ever have to do.

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