A Memory Shared

Mark and I shared most of our friends.  Of the friends he had that were not shared, only one has connected with me since his death.

Last night I was having a moment.  I don’t have those waves of grief much anymore.  Mostly its a pervading sadness about something, but the tears, the sobbing, that doesn’t happen much anymore.

And last night, I was having one of those.

So I put it out on Facebook that I needed to talk to a widda friend.

And Mark’s friend asked me what was up.

I talked to him a bit.   And then he started to share some of HIS memories of my husband.

And suddenly, it was almost as if it were my memory.

I could picture Mark, standing behind the counter, laughing as he counted out $500 in $5 bills.

I could picture the crinkle in his eyes.

I could hear his laugh.

I could vividly see him, as if I were RIGHT THERE.

I wasn’t – it wasn’t my memory. .

But now?  Now it is.  Now I have this picture in my head about this man who was so incredibly patient and found humour in so much.

I realized that I don’t have that with anyone.

There’s no “… remember when??”  because my children don’t talk about him much and the people I live near don’t know who he is.

And so… I don’t get to remember when.  Except in my own head.   And then I’m left crying.

Thank you Jordan, for sharing the memory with me.

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