I had this whole entry I was working on about flirting and my inability to recognize when its happening to me. I just always think they are engaging in polite conversation. Nothing more. Any way…I deleted the whole thing because I felt it just wasn’t a very good entry. Actually, I feel like I just don’t have a good entry in me this week. My thoughts are too scattered and random to collect into one whole entry and I don’t catch them in time for a twitter entry either. I am caught between routines, fantasies, and marking time.
The other day, as I was attempting to clear my mind in meditation, Eric Northman came into my head, which was weird because I haven’t watched that show in ages. If this were a different kind of blog I might be tempted to tell you exactly in vivid details what happened inside my brain that morning. But it’s not that kind of blog and I hear those particular readers gasping my name in shock “Cindy!”. I’ll just tell you that Eric Northman has some mad skills. Or I have an overactive imagination. I think both options are correct. I did finally change my facebook status from married to widowed. I thought it might be time to stop being married to a dead man.
Facebook is the cruelest really. Chris is always there “poking” me or influencing web pages to follow. People leave messages to him and I see them all. They are sweet and heartfelt messages, but they still sting like bees. Before the internet, when someone died, they stayed dead. Now there is always a lingering presence of the one who moved to the beyond. We have made our own ghosts through the power of the internet. It is my own undoing. I choose to leave his facebook page open. I choose to keep his blog online. The things I don’t do is visit them. Just like the pictures on flickr. If I need to go in and pull an image for the blog, I only go back so far careful not to move past a certain year or a certain date.
I don’t tell you things for sympathy or to make you feel bad for the messages. I know that tomorrow Chris’s page will be filled with messages of love and loss and tales of how much he is missed. I tell you these things so you know that no matter how easy I make it look sometimes, this is still hard, that I still feel guilty for not being able to keep him safe for you. I tell you these things so that you know my grief isn’t only for my own loss, but for your’s as well.
Oh honey. No one blames you for not keeping him here…but God, WE all feel the sting. No one more, however, than you. And the stings we feel for you are as fresh as they were a year ago.
Know that however this untangles…you are loved. No matter what your title.
Loved.
Bravely.
I’ve said it before – you are an amazing writer. Take care.
I’ve felt the same way about the deceased pages. It’s nice to see their faces every now and then, but will it seem as if I am an uncaring fool if I don’t write something on their page every once in a while? And really facebook, why do you keep telling me to start a game with a person. Frankly, if they played a word it would freak me out beyond belief.