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.