I just wrote a brief description of Eric’s death to be posted on the home page of the blog. I have had many inquiries into his manner of death and it isn’t a secret, I just don’t feel like blogging about it. It is what it is. When I went to save the document on my computer, I couldn’t figure out what to name it. I almost titled it “Eric summary”, but couldn’t. That is the furthest thing from a summary of Eric that I could imagine.
Eric is not his manner of death. Eric is a brother, a son, an uncle, a boyfriend, a friend, a hospitality industry worker and master’s student, a runner, a dress designer, a Doritos chef, a pain in the ass, a caring person.
Yes, I know I used the present tense. It was even hard for me to type “Eric’s death” in the first sentence of this blog and again now. Does it ever get easier?
When I talk about what happened I refer to it as “what happened in December”, or “when we were in Las Vegas”, as if giving language to it makes it that much more real. If I actually say it there is always a pause between the words, I have to muster the strength to say the d word. I even wince internally when someone else says it.
I’ve always been superstitious about language. In college when I wanted to go away instead of doing something I was supposed to do with my sorority, I used the excuse of a sick great-grandmother. She was already dead, but I didn’t want to curse anyone else with an illness brought about by my lie.
In the first trimesters of my pregnancies, when I’m still not really telling people, if someone flat out asks me if I’m pregnant, I can’t lie. I worry about what might happen to the baby if I do. I know this is irrational, but I can’t help it, it’s just how I am.
In this case my language can’t change a thing. He’s not coming back (despite the dream my Mom had when he came back and was emptying her dishwasher—showing me up even in the afterlife!). But I still have a lot of trouble with it.
None of this really matters, it’s just a curiosity of my mind--and if it’s easier for me not to say it, then I’m going to continue to not say it. As everyone keeps reminding me, grief is a process that we all go about in our own way.
Mine involves language.
Oh, and I went with “Eric’s blurb”. It will be up as soon as my husband and I get a minute together and he can show me how to do it. Technology is his thing, not mine.
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