I had a Facebook memory pop up today that reminded me how hard grief was in the first years—and how small, ordinary things helped me cope. Reading this post from seven months after Patrick died in 2012, I’m reminded of the kindness of people, including strangers, who listened and supported me.
As I reread the old Facebook post, I noticed that I was initially writing to let my friends know about my interaction with a stranger, but then I began to talk directly to Patrick as if I were trying to get him to understand. I guess it’s a therapeutic thing loss survivors do—talking to our loved ones. It’s one of the ways we stay connected and carry them with us as we continue to live on.
These days, I visit Patrick’s grave less often, and I view that as a sign of healing on my journey. When I do visit, it feels like a reflective time that brings fond memories of Patrick and my dad. It’s not about how he died anymore, it’s about honoring his life and legacy.
Anyway…here’s the post.
“Tonight after work, I went to visit son Patrick Shannon’s grave. His grave and my dad’s are located right at the edge of the cemetery. A gentleman was mowing his backyard, which is directly across the car path from the graves, as I pull up. I stand at Pat’s headstone for 10 or so minutes meditating, praying, and talking to my son. As I finish, I hear the lawn mower shut off, and this man steps forward as I approach my car and asks me, ‘Who is this man that is buried there?’
“Not quite sure I heard the question right, I say, ‘Excuse me?’ and again he asks me, ‘Who is this man that is buried there?’ I say, somewhat perplexed, ‘My son is buried there. Why do you ask?’ He says, ‘Well, almost every day someone visits the grave since the burial last March. I’ve never seen such traffic to any of the graves here like I see to his. Quite a few different cars and people. I see you the most so tonight, curiosity got the best me and I had to ask. I hope you don’t mind.’
“This exchange led to a most interesting 30-minute conversation with this polite and well-mannered fella. It gave me a chance to brag about my son anyway. Seems son Patrick has, in some way, touched a lot of folk’s lives before he passed. So much so that a lot of different people still need to visit you as I do. More than I ever realized anyway.
“A lot of folks love you, Patrick. You were always good enough. I hope you know that now from whatever Heavenly place you’re at. An interesting and enlightening evening indeed.”
With warm regards to my fellow survivors & God Bless.
Steve
