Have you ever randomly thought of someone and gone down a rabbit hole (*cough*Facebook*cough*) to see what they’ve been up to, only to find out…they died? As in, died a week ago and their funeral is tomorrow?
I swear I’m not psychic, but man…
This one hit me in all the feels. JC was first my friend and then boyfriend for two years. I’d written often about him in this space and had posted photos of us on Facebook on numerous occasions. JC was a part of my family; my grandkids thought he was cool. He DJ’d my daughter’s wedding.
Our relationship had become complicated in its last months, and for valid reasons. Still, after we broke up, JC and I tried for a few seconds to be friends, but we realized that the hurt was too deep, and the misunderstandings… God, our misunderstandings had built walls so high you could see them from space! We both knew we were better apart, but the letting go was hard, and if I’m honest with myself, a part of me never fully let go.
That became really apparent today. I mean, one minute I’m clicking on a link and the next I’m seeing his smiling face next to his name and the word “obituary.”
I can’t describe the ache in my gut and the utter disbelief when I saw it. It was definitely a different kind of grief. Not abstract and not intimate, but something in between. Somewhere I’ve not been before, but is worth my consideration as someone who writes about grief.
I understand grief to be a reaction to love, and without a doubt I loved JC back in the day. I also understand that, given our relationship was in the past (and that I’ve been with Jim for eleven years), every conversation, every intimate moment, every memory of every meal, trip, mini golf game, baseball game, and soccer game JC and I shared will be locked down in my mind with no one but myself to share them.
Memories of an ex aren’t something you bring up at Thanksgiving, you know?
As I sort this out (if I ever can), here are the questions running through my mind: Do we ever truly let go of the people with whom we’ve been intimate on some level? Doesn’t a part of them live on inside us forever?
Aren’t we all magnets collecting memories of the people we’ve known?
And, if they’ve not hurt us in ways that are unforgivable, aren’t they deserving of our grief?
My heart goes out to JC’s family. Their lives are forever changed.
And so, too, is mine.
May JC rest in peace.
Lynn Haraldson, Author and Writing Mentor 
I’m sorry about your friend’s passing. Grief truly is a fluid thing, and it’s never the same.
You are so right. No two losses are ever the same. It’s just such a strange feeling. I’ve been flooded with memories the last 24 hours, both good and bad. That relationship meant something to me, certainly, but it was over eleven years ago and I find myself thinking, “You should be over it.” Ugh. That’s exactly what I tell grieving people NOT to do! LOL