#89 Repetition

I find I am having trouble remembering which stories about Eric I have told, and which I haven’t. I sometimes have the nagging suspicion that I have already expressed what I am trying to get across and hope that somehow, it’s different enough. With almost 90 blog entries written (wow), I don’t have the time to go back through all of them and check. I also don’t really want to. It seems writing them is easier than reading them. Reading them can require more emotional investment and I just don’t want to go there. I have been saying that eventually I’d like to put these together into a book for my kids. Maybe it’s for me too, for someday when I’m ready to sit down and immerse myself and let myself really feel. If that day ever comes.

It turns out I’m much better at living day to day, taking care of crises major and minor, than at taking time to assess my emotional state. The blog started as a way for me to do that, to take stock and get it all out. It has been that, but sometimes I wonder if it’s just another way for me to check “grief” off on my daily to-do list; something else that has been taken care of for the day.

It’s getting harder and harder for me to make myself take-on writing about the really emotional aspects of Eric’s death. Sometimes it’s because I’ve already written about a lot of them, sometimes it’s because I just don’t want to go there. I don’t want to wallow, to cry, to hurt. I feel like a shark, if I keep moving I won’t die.

So please forgive me if I repeat stories or sentiment. It’s like getting together with family or old friends, the same stories are told over and over again--a way of reaffirming relationships and ties. It’s how we know we’re here and we were there and how we put the present and future into perspective. My Dad always tells my Mom she needs to get some new stories and he’s right. We need to keep moving, to keep living and collecting. But we also need to be brave enough to look back and keep the old stories alive. Without them, we wouldn’t know who we are.