The Wisdom of MayB

Feb. 11^th 

Yesterday it was a month ago that K.B. died, just after midnight.

Today I saw MayB for the first time since we returned from our trip. The effect of seeing her and talking with her was like being a mountain-climber high up on one of the 8000-metre mountains suddenly taking a breath of oxygen. To be able to share my thoughts with a friend who had been so close to K.B. for such a long time felt like I was getting the gift of something that will sustain me.  

I needed to know how MayB was doing and whether she thought I was losing my mind in grief. She lost her mother when she was in her 20s; I needed to ask her what my new reality is going to be like.

She said that her approach has been denial and she doesn’t care whether that’s “healthy” or not. I get that; I am much more content thinking that at any moment K.B. might show up on my front step. I asked her how firm the imprint of grief is—am I permanently altered? Will I really never watch the news again? She thinks I will; a defining characteristic of grief is that it makes enjoyment of things one had previously treasured more difficult. As this acute state of grieving slowly morphs into something else, I might find the news more bearable again.

She had an interesting take on what might come of K.B.’s death. She thinks that there will be good things that happen as a result of it which we can as yet not perceive, or only barely perceive, such as the intensification of the connections between K.B.’s family and friends. She mentioned the positive outcomes for various family members that resulted from MayB’s mother’s early death and which would have been unforeseeable at that time.

She also feels that perhaps on some very deep level that K.B. knew she didn’t have long on this earth and that by finding and marrying Chris she found a way to safely tuck her two children into a new, loving, supportive family while she could. MayB also suggested that God took her from us so that we would appreciate more what she meant to us (“But I appreciated her a lot when she was alive, so that really wasn’t necessary,” I replied through my tears.)

We spoke, too, of blogging and whether I should put this journal up on the Internet, even though it might strike some as dark. She pointed out that grief is about being in the darkness; it would not be an authentic exploration of the realities of grief if that truth were avoided.