Grief Is Like Glitter

Flashback:

September 10, 2008 we experienced what we now affectionately call "The Great Glitter Explosion of 2008".  B, who was 4, convinced M, who was 2, that glitter was fairy dust.  I walked into the family room to get the girls for dinner and found that M had sprinkled "fairy dust" everywhere.  I mean everywhere.  It was on the cats, the couches, the play table and chairs, the rocking lamb, the floor, and all over M and B.  I freaked out.  Trying to get glitter off the floor is no easy feat (you'd think a lint roller would work, but you'd be sorely mistaken). We were finding sparkles everywhere for months after, but I was confident we'd gotten it all.  Over a year later, we moved out and as the movers were moving the furniture out of that room, we found more.  It was nightmare I can laugh at now, but at the time the only sound I was making was sobbing.

Present Day:

A few weeks ago, a friend posted a meme on Facebook.  "Grief is like glitter. You can throw a handful of glitter into the air, but when you try to clean it up, you'll never get it all. Even long after the event, you will still find glitter tucked into corners, it will always be there- somewhere."  If that doesn't describe grief, I don't know what does.

I've been thinking a lot about this lately.  It's been 27 years since Ashley died.  I was talking to my little sister about Ashley a few weeks ago (she was born after Ashley died so she only knows her through pictures and other people's memories) and I was overcome by grief in a way I haven't felt in a long time.  I was telling her about the time I first realized that even though I was older, Ashley was actually the older sister.  She always was an old soul and I used to go to her for advice on pretty much everything.  Normally, I love talking about Ashley.  Talking about her keeps her alive, but this year it's just been hard, harder than in the past and I don't know why that is.

Today is especially hard because it's Ashley's birthday.  She would have been 38.  She should have been going out tonight to celebrate with her family and I should have called her this morning to sing her Happy Birthday. I should have spent the last couple of weeks looking for the perfect gift and we should have been planning our families summer vacation.  Some people (my Dad mainly) would say, "You can't live in the past and you can't wonder what could have or should have been" but sometimes you have to.  At least I do.  It doesn't feel right to just accept that this is what it is.  And as I reread that last sentence I realize how utterly ridiculous that sounds.  This is life.  These are the cards my family got dealt.  We can't exchange them and we can't go through the deck looking for different ones.

The brother of one of M's best friends died about a month ago.  When it happened, his Mom called me and said, "I know this is an awful reason to think of someone, but you're who I thought of to help J get through this."  I've been texting J once a week and every week she says the same thing, "I thought it would be better by now."  It takes a long time before it's better and even when it is better sometimes you slide back and it's worse again. The last many years I've been managing not having Ashley here just fine, but this year. . . I don't know.  It's been tough.

I honestly thought I had picked up all the pieces of my grief years ago.  I would think of and talk about Ashley and it was fine. I was fine. I moved some furniture around in my head, though, and found a whole pile of it I wasn't expecting.  I not only mourn the 10 year old who died, but I am also mourning the high school, college, and law school graduations we missed and I'm mourning the sisterly phone calls I don't get to have.

Epiphany (this is why I like blogging- suddenly my thoughts all make sense): I'm getting older but Ashley is forever 10.  I don't mind getting older but it feels the older I get, the more I move on, the further away I'm moving from her. I went on to do everything we both wanted (well, except for law school.  That was all Ashley) and she didn't.  She's been with me for every big life event I had, even if she hasn't been there physically.  Sometimes I just get tired of her only being here in my thoughts, but that's better than nothing, so I guess it's time to accept that again.