We went to a convenience store two days ago, and as I was waiting for N. outside I saw three young men of about 18 or 20 come out of the store and get into a car. And that was the most horrible moment I have had so far. I can deal with the operation, the scar, the emotional pain, the loss, but knowing that Eric will never grow up to go to a store with his buddies – that is the really intolerable, impossible, unacceptable thing. This is the real tragedy.
Yesterday was not a bad day but today is very difficult. I can’t stop thinking about those young men at the store.
I think I will try to get some more sleep because this is very exhausting.
Clarissa's Blog 
Yes. Those little moments can tear your heart out.
I remember being in a mall and walking past a shoe store. A woman had just tried on a pair of shoes, and her husband was saying, “Those look very nice on you.” And the wrenching pain that those little ordinary, everyday moments were forever lost.
Grieving is exhausting. I found getting enough sleep was essential, otherwise the next day would be a misery.
It does get better.
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“It does get better.”
Yes and no. The pain dulls. You get used to the fact someone isn’t there when they should be, but you never stop missing them.
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I have a friend with cancer, and she can’t bear to hear about my grandchildren. She will not live to see her grandchild grow up. So we talk about other things.
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You know, there is probably a young man of around that age group who could benefit in some way from something only you could do.
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Some say, you’ll find out that this is a good thing.
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Some Day, you’ll find out that this is a good thing.
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My little brother died in an accident at 14. I often wonder (still, after all this time; it’s been almost 40 years) how his life would have turned out, what he would have done, what his kids would have been like. I still miss him, but now it’s a wistful, wishful sort of missing, and not the painful, hot grief that it was in the beginning.
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