This resonates with me, Crystal. My grandchildren, now 9 and 11 who lived with me most of their lives, moved far away this summer due to their new stepfather’s job. I miss them desperately and people throw platitudes at me like Trump threw paper towels at survivors of Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico. Neither was or is helpful. Don’t tell me about phone calls and emails or Skype and FaceTime. I don’t live in a cave. I know about and use technology daily but no technology takes the place of hugs and long conversations while rocking on the porch. Electronics won’t bake with me in the kitchen or take long walks with our dogs.
Remember the happy times, they say, but remembering the happy times makes sadder, emptier, lonelier.
I want to scream, Just let me be sad. Let me wallow for a few minutes or an hour or maybe, if I’m lucky, a day. Ignore my tears, don’t try to dry them. Give me air and space and time. I will not die of this sadness. No need for you to save me. I don’t need your paper towels.
Take what you need and leave the rest. This day might hurt but tomorrow may heal.