The hard part of grief

[coffeedaiv]

Or, really, A hard part.

Life goes on. For me, that is. Not for Mom, not for Marci, not for Shiva. They are each and all gone. And I loved them, and it hurts.

And I am still here. I still have bills to pay, so I have to go to work. I mean, I can, I did, take some days off; I am finally and at last in a job that allows that. I still have responsibilities. To both the living, and to the dead. My friends and I still do stuff to remember Marci, sometimes together. D&D, for one, will never not have an empty chair for her (if only in my mind). My brothers and i are still resolving the immediate remainders of Moms life, settling her estate between us and addressing what she left behind. Disposing of trash and dividing objects.

But it is taking time, it is taking attention. It is what i am giving to the dead, that i can no longer give to the living. And giving to the dead is different than giving to the living.