Grieving

No one tells you how lonely that first major grocery shopping trip After Her is going to be. I am reminded of the jar filled with ping pong balls and beads and sand and water.

For the uninitiated: The jar is life. First fill it with ping pong balls? Is it full? Sure. Pour some beads in. See how they fit in the spaces? Is the jar full now? Sure. Pour some sand in. It fills all the leftover spaces? Is the jar full? Of course. Pour in some water. Still room.

The point of the parable being, if you sweat the small stuff, and fill your jar with sand first, there’s no room for anything else.

Let’s look at this in relationship terms. If the ping pong balls represent major events, the beads memorable small events, etc, then in the world After Her nothing changes much. I go out. I go dancing. I interact with people and life goes on. The sand is the day to day that fills us, and the water, well, I don’t really care what the water is.

When we broke up, we poured all the sand back out. And it’s in those spaces, where she was ubiquitous, that I am empty.