It's weird what triggers grief. I learned that someone has been diagnosed as terminal, and my reaction was, "Lucky stiff![1] He gets to die, and I have to live!" And I even cried, because he gets to die, and I have to live. (I'd swap, if God would allow it. I really would. I'd have *no* problem with that.)
And then I had arranged to take some families to a hockey game, and it's the first hockey game I've watched since Gloria died, because she was the reason we watched hockey, and I cried about that.
But I didn't cry at the actual hockey game ...
[1] - pardon the expression ...
No comments:
Post a Comment