Kobe Bryant's death has been an incomprehensible tragedy. I am deeply sorry for his wife and children who have been left behind and will have to forge a new way of living as a family. He was larger than life and I can't imagine what it is like to take that first step into life after Kobe. But Kobe was not perfect. He was accused of rape and it has left an ugly shadow on the legacy that many do not care to remember. Kobe was not perfect. No one is perfect. We all have our shadows.
In our pain, we want so badly to remember our loved ones as whole, complete, and perfect. Somehow we have to learn how to incorporate the whole person into our memory of them after they pass. I have recently said my final good-bye to my ex-husband, my lifelong friend. There have been and continue to be some tricky moments for me, both public and private where the shadows have appeared. There were some very real reasons why we divorced after 23 years of marriage. In my grief, they are often the reality check for me and the reminder that how America mourns is sorely lacking. He wasn't perfect. We weren't perfect. Yet I remember him as my great love. But I also remember the pain.
I mourned his passing with my family and friends with out hesitation. It broke me completely to know that he and I would never enjoy one another's company again. Day after day, I had to tell myself that he was gone. No more talks, no more dinners, no more laughs together. But as you continue the journey of reliving that live that is no more, the shadows slowly appear. The photos bring it all back into focus. In a picture is everything; the people, the place, how you got there. You remember it all; the fight you had just before the photo was snapped, the smile that you pasted on your face trying desperately to cover the pain for the benefit of others, or the emptiness when he didn't even show up. But mourning in America has no place for that, even if you're the ex-wife. There is no opportunity to say that he wasn't perfect, that I had wanted more. I wanted to grow old together even if that was only to 2019. I wanted him to still be here, I wanted to still have our family home filled with kids and grandkids in the backyard and gathered around the table. No, he wasn't perfect, we weren't perfect. And now I want us, as a society, to get better at this grieving thing. I want so badly to be remembered whole. I want my kids to tell the stupid stories of my life. Do not sugar coat me . Keep me human with all my frailties and weaknesses. Remember me as I am. Don't leave any of it out. I have light and I have shadows. We all do.
2 comments:
Lovely, Tere. People are so complicated and our relationships so multifaceted. Grief slams us so hard that we can't begin to see the whole of that ended life clearly; we recall specific events and feelings but not the "gestalt". At least that's how it was for me. Slowly, slowly a fuller picture emerges/returns. It's all good, a holy experience for sure.
It‘a coming into focus. Slowly. Slowly. So much of my memories of Ralph and us together is good. That comforts me in indescribable ways. It is a gift and I am grateful.
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