One of the undercurrent emotions I’ve been surprised to deal with in the midst of my grief is envy. In retrospect I suppose it isn’t so surprising, after all, every where I look there are people who have what I don’t.
It’s in the lunch time conversation about the difficulties of traveling for work and having to spend evening meals alone. I spend all my meals alone; sometimes I skip a meal just to avoid Michele’s empty space.
I’m jealous of the birthday dinner a coworker is having with their family. Living apart from a family that doesn’t go to any effort to celebrate birthdays, and now living alone, means I am now faced with spending my next birthday alone.
Envy rears as I watch couples together in the bookstore, or movie, or grocery store. And that envy turns to anger when I see them acting rudely towards each other. Don’t they know their connectedness is fragile and precious? That what is here in this minute can be gone in the next?
I am envious of all of you who have some one to love, some one to hold, some one to be with.