Concerts and trips

Jim and I went to a concert of Haydn music a few days ago. Jim remarked that one of the violinist looked a lot like Andy H., the father of one of David’s elementary-school friends. I agreed. Later I looked at the program and found that it was indeed Andy. I was anxious to go up and talk to him after the concert. He didn’t recognize me at first, but remembered that David and his son were friends. I asked about his son and he then asked about David. “David died of leukemia four years ago.” He looked shocked and said, “I’m sorry. I didn't know.” I had wanted to let him know, but then it felt awkward, so I changed the subject.

The next morning I woke up feeling anxious. As I replayed the conversation, I worryied that Andy thought me callous for changing the subject so fast. But really, my unsettling feeling was from my grief. Seeing Andy brought out my loss and what more could I say to Andy?

I’m glad I went up to talk to him. I hunger for connections to David’s life: there are very few.

I took a long walk the next day and realized that compounding my grief was the fact that a few days before I had taken my first solo trip to New York since my brother Mike died. I had stressed about how I was going to schedule it now that it didn’t include a trip to the nursing home in New Jersey. It wasn’t complicated, but it seemed very complicated. Three days after I returned, I realized that Mike's death, the fact that he was dead, was affecting me, below my consciousness.

Last week the facilitator at Compassionate Friends, my bereaved parents support group, talked about why support is important as time goes on. Each stage is a new stage: one year after, four years after, ten years after. It’s always a new experience. When she said it, I didn’t think it applied to me, but after the experience with Andy and my New York trip, I see that it is true. My life is full of many wonderful things. But there’s a loss to recognize and deal with, a loss that doesn’t go away.

We heard that a friend of ours recently died of an inoperable brain tumor. She only lived about a month after her initial diagnosis. Another loss.