Anthony: Long time, Jules.
Me: I have been keeping our conversations more silent lately.
Anthony: I know, and even those will become less as time goes by.
Me: The strange thing about the pain of grief is that it feels a lot like excitement; it is almost exactly the same sensation, like a slight punch to the stomach that sort of fizzes up into the chest – a small explosion, short-lived.
Anthony: When does it happen?
Me: Well, yesterday I was having coffee with my mother at a chocolate shop and I had the fleeting, split-second thought that I would buy you a box of the new rose-coloured chocolates.
Anthony: Bittersweet?
Me: Yes, both the chocolate and then the inevitable moment that I remembered you were dead.
Anthony: You sound more at peace; that is what I have been praying for.
Me: Since when do you pray?
Anthony: Well it comes with the territory here, Jules.
Me: Oh. Well your prayers are working. I am much more hopeful now.
Anthony: Of what?
Me: Of nothing really – just hopeful.
Illustration courtesy of Colleen at https://bikecolleenbrown.wordpress.com/
(Colleen is the friend who is collaborating with me on the book about grief).
jmgoyder 