Grief is contagious. I eat it up, actually, the aroma entices me. Feeling bad is feeling, and sometimes it's delicious to feel. My friend is grieving now, and she's not talking about it. I sought some evidence of her thoughts by reading her blog. And now I'm guilty by association, for knowing what's going on in her mind. I asked her if she wanted to have coffee, as in quiet time, as in let's just sit on your deck and listen to the wind and feel the warm mug in our hands together. I don't blame her if she ignores that message and chooses to have coffee solo. We have an understanding. We fly under the radar in times like this, and the other understands. I guess I felt compelled to ask. I already had coffee. To be honest.
Feeling good seems to give some people the wrong idea, that I want them along for the ride. Someone I knew 25 years ago randomly contacted me because she's wandering around my town. My reaction? Anger. "What makes her think I'm just sitting around waiting for a last minute invitation to socialize?!" Ok, but I'll try to take it down a notch. Feel less. Less. Even less. Ok, better.
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