Grieve Out Loud

Someone I've known my entire life died suddenly this week from pneumonia that simply wasn't treated in time. He grew up with my dad, watched my brother and I grow up, and always showed up at our house with dog treats in his pockets for our German Shephard, Sarge. Not just any dog treats -they were shaped like steaks and had a chewy center that was a different color to look like a t-bone. He was really kind, had big eyes, and told funny stories about taking roadtrips with my dad in a mail truck in the 60s. He had the same name as my grandfather and gave my brother and I sets of play-doh every year for Christmas. His daughter, a few years younger than me, may have been the one to break the cabinet handle on my kitchen set when she was five. In August, she's getting married -without her dad.

In his honor, I am drinking vodka, because I love vodka, and eating a fluffernutter sandwich. It's not really "in his honor," I guess, I am having it because I am sad. He will be fine, he's at peace and has nothing left to worry about. It's his wife of forty years and daughter whose children will never meet him that get the short end of the stick here. I wish I was one of those people who could say something wise and useful to either of them to induce feelings of peace. Ralph had a dog, Henry, who wandered around the house looking for him the night of his death-according to my dad. Isn't that sad?

Recently, another close friend of my family, someone very young, killed himself. My brother, charismatic fellow that he is, said a few words for that family at the service and among them: don't be afraid of yourselves and your grief. I am really really sad about this, but my brother is right. Grieving is a bit of a lost art, don't you think? There is such an urge to just hold it in and move on. I will miss Ralph because he was a great guy. I am sorry for his family because they still have so many milestones ahead of them that they wanted to experience with him. I am sorry for my dad because he lost a lifelong friend. Cheers, Ralph.