Today was the memorial service for Siddalee. I was really considering attending. It just felt too weird, too intrusive. I can't think of anything more personal than your child's funeral, or a more unwelcome guest than someone who is a complete stranger to the family, having never laid eyes on the child, who is only in attendance out of some (probably mislead) feeling that, having been there, could possibly 'help.' Especially someone who would undoubtedly bawl like a... well... like a grieving mother, only, not for the child being memorialized, but instead for ones who had been dead for years.
Years. It seems strange to say "Nova has been gone for years." I don't know how time goes by so quickly... but I digress.
The point is that I felt as though I'd be intruding on their grief, so I stayed home and managed to collect nearly another $100 for the burial costs. And cried. And messaged my husband at work about how much I miss our babies. And expected him to console me via text message, in the middle of his work day. And I had to kept reminding myself that, sure, Siddalee's death has brought up all the grief and sadness again, but it isn't about me.
That is one of the things I hate the most about grief. It is selfish, it insists that the bereaved BE selfish. And I am not a selfish person.