Trigger warning: This post is about a sad subject.
When you’re in touch with someone often, and she dies, her death confronts you all the time: You realize that you would have talked with her today, you would have eaten dinner with her tomorrow night, you would have seen her this weekend. Even if at first you can’t believe that she’s dead, the loss hits you and hits you and hits you until it becomes part of you.
Then there are the loved ones whom you don’t see so often, like the ones who live far away. They’re not part of your daily life, but you’re happy to know that they’re out there, and you look forward to your next contact.
When someone like that dies, the recovery process gets strange — especially if the deceased’s funeral takes place so far off that you aren’t there for any of its cathartic healing.
While your friend was alive, you got so used to her being away that when she leaves you forever, it’s almost as if nothing has changed. Her death doesn’t confront you, and it’s easy to let it slip out of your mind.
Eventually, though, you accidentally drop into an old habit and think of contacting her. That’s when you run headfirst into the heartless reality, and you’re sad all over again. Recovery takes you longer because the reminders of her death hit every few weeks or months, not day after day.
Losing someone you see all the time is harder — much harder, desperately harder, monumentally harder — than the pain of losing someone who was only occasionally a part of your life.
But the latter seems to linger forever.