Tyler Coates: The Things That No One Tells You →
There are things people don’t tell you about grieving, how eventually you do stop thinking of the people you lost every day, which is one of the good things. But then there are the bad things, like how years later you’ll find yourself still dreaming about them—dreaming about them dying all over again, or alive, either in memory or in the present. There are times when something amazing has happened, and there’s a little sting when you realize that you can’t share the good news with everyone, because there’s someone missing from the crowd. You’ll regret that you can’t make them listen to a new song or a new movie, that they’ll never get to read something that you wrote, that you can’t tell them anymore jokes. Missing them at the big celebrations—graduations, weddings, anniversaries—is obvious, you know that, and you expect it with each year. But it’s the little moments that matter, when you’re reminded of that absence and all you really want to do is make a phone call, and then you realize that with time you’ve forgotten what they sounded like, no matter how distinct their voices were. Eventually it will feel as if you are erasing people from your life, and you will think it is your fault, that you’re failing at remembering on purpose. You’ll meet someone new and have to explain that someone you loved once died, and no matter how long ago it was, the new person will apologize. “It’s OK,” you’ll reply, but it’s not, because you’ll realize that with time it will get better but it will also get harder.
