Tuesday, June 1, 2010

In Fairness To Grief

To be fair to the grief process, I have to say that today was a better day than Monday. And Monday was easier than all of last week. When I'm in it, my mind does not believe there's a way out. Songs that make me feel lose their power. Books that inspire my mind sit unread. My insatiable quest for activity turns inside-out, and I want to disconnect from everyone and everything. It just doesn't feel good.

But days like today are proof that there is relief from grief. I can look at a photo of Pablo beaming a grin over a plate of pancakes and remember how happy we were the moment it was taken. I can look at a mom and her child at the gelato shop next door to our office and appreciate their playful joy. My eyes meet other people's eyes in conversation. Good things feel good.

This morning, as I climbed the treacherous Vermont Canyon and passed the Greek Theater, I became excited just thinking that in a few minutes I'd be looking over Forest Lawn Cemetery. I started talking to Pablo, which I often do on deserted roads. An entire conversation carried on as the road rose in front of us at 12%. I could hear Pablo pedaling behind me, saying, 'Papa—all I can see is your big BUTT!' I laughed pretty damn loud, like I did every time he ever said that to me. The kid had a way with thrusting statements out into the world. If you've ever hung out with me or Jo Ann, you'd never wonder where he gleaned that skill from. The fact is, Pablo took language to a really cool place. I've never heard a kid say some of the stuff he used to say.

When the road carried me to the vista above Forest Lawn, I pulled off and stood on my feet. It was the exact spot where Grady, Peter, Dean, Fred and I stood a little under a year ago, looking for the perfect grave site for Pablo. It's pretty high up. Seeing Pablo's grave is impossible. You can barely make out the giant Abraham Lincoln statue near down there. It's about the adventure and the solitude up there. One of these days, I want to hang a Pablove flag up off the fence that divides Griffith Park and Forest Lawn.

Maybe we'll do that on Pablo's birthday.


Anonymous said...

Yes!!! A Pablove flag sounds perfect!

f xo

Kate said...

Your words are always so powerful, its great that Pablo still feels so close, enjoy xx
Kate in Ireland

Alberta Art Classes said...

I think about all of you often and wonder how your day to day to life is going. We continue to send light, love and healing to your family...xoxo

Anonymous said...

Today would be the first time in a very long while that finds me at PABLOg. We were introduced to your blog by a good friend shortly after Sylvie was diagnosed in Feb '09. I wish with every fiber of my being that things had worked out differently for Pablo on June 27 and Sylvie on November 29. We always felt a connection between them and I truly believe Pablo & Sylvie are ripping it up high above. What a team they make! A truckload of personality for sure. I want to thank you for having the courage to so clearly convey the minute to minute struggle with what has taken place and how one feels when you can't touch, hug or kiss your child in real time. Your candor inspires me to focus on the wonderful things we experienced when Sylvie, Pablo and so many other little people were still here with us, well you know... in the physical sense.
I know they would want it no other way.