Seeking Some Middle Ground

This has not been one of my better days. It started when I decided to finish the book I've been reading for my next  book club meeting. The ending made me cry. It was sad but not tragic—really more poignant than sad. Once the tears started, I decided not to fight them. After all, I was alone and didn't have to put on a happy face for anyone. Later, I went to get the mail and there was a card and note from Art's Aunt Irene. She was the youngest of his 9 aunts and uncles and this was the first I'd heard from her since Art died. I knew she had heard about his illness and death, but I had not heard one word from her since we saw her at a family reunion more than a year ago--before Art got sick. I have to admit that I was a little hurt and angry about that, but when I read her note, all was forgiven. I could sense how sad she was about Art's death and how difficult it was for her to write to me. She wrote: "I have tried for weeks to write to express my love and sympathy, but just kept blocking it out. Perhaps I just could not accept the fact that Art was no longer with us in person. I can still picture him as the handsome young nephew, 'Husky', who was in my wedding."

Of course, reading Aunt Irene's note brought more tears. Art often talked about being in her wedding. It was one of his happy childhood memories. He'd be glad to know that is how she chooses to remember him. I'm grateful to Aunt Irene for finally writing to me. Everyone grieves differently. We each have to find our own way through it.

Two years ago my 28-year old niece died suddenly and tragically. Kim was a true "ray of sunshine" in our family and the grief everyone felt at her loss was almost too much to bear. It was a particularly difficult time for her two young nephews (my great nephews), because Kim had lived with them for several years and had become an integral part of their lives. Ethan, the older of the two, who is now 16 and a talented musician, has found a way to deal with his grief through his music. To honor the second anniversary of Kim's death, he wrote a beautiful song in which he sings of trying to find the middle ground between his tears, and happiness and joy. "Life is not a sitcom or a movie or a book," Ethan sings. " She doesn't come through the door no matter how many times I look."

I've listened to Ethan's song many times since he placed it on his Facebook page and I cry every time. I'm still looking for the middle ground between my tears, and happiness and joy. I know Art isn't coming through the door no matter how many times I look. And that's the hard part.