Sublimation and Liberation
On a recent night when I couldn't fall asleep, I chose a random tag from a friend's journal and read the posts that appeared. The tag was about anniversaries. I knew a few entries would be about his anniversary with his sweetie of several years. I really enjoy the story of how they met, noting that the details change a bit in each telling. I laughed a little, since Jason and I used to tell our story about meeting a little differently each time too. In the end, it doesn't really matter how Jason and me, or my two friends, progressed from that meeting. The final result of both was a connection we didn't expect. That tugged at my heart a little and I found myself teary-eyed in the joy my friends found with each other, remembering mine with my Jason.
As I continued through the posts, I saw his notes about the death of his parents and memories and memorials of their passing. Something I realized after starting to see a counsellor for grief was that I really had sublimated my grief for Dad and never dealt with it. He passed not long before Christmas while I was dealing with Jason just being out of hospital. When life seemed normal again and I had time to relax emotionally, Jason relapsed and his death occupied my entire life. I recognized Dad's passing by writing about it, and logically I know he's gone. Until recently I'd never dealt openly with the emotions from it, even if I said so in my posts in various places. My friend's posts made me feel keenly for his loss; as he acknowledged missing his parents or the passage of time away from those dates, I thought about my Dad, and wept for him and my family's loss, and how my friend must have felt so long ago.
They were good tears that needed to be shed. Thank you. You know who you are.