Cathartic Commiseration

November 30, 2013

I saw Paula today.  And she saw me.  And we hugged and cried and cried and hugged.  And then we talked.  For over an hour.  And it only felt like 15 minutes.

Yes, we planned to meet.  This was not a random-running-into-each-other moment.  We planned to meet at the museum because then all of the kids could go and play while we sat and talked.  And it really did work out well.  Our moms got to talk.  Paula’s sister and my brother got to catch up.  Our dads…  Not sure what exactly our dads did.

And I’d love to tell you about everything we discussed.  But some of it is Paula’s story to tell, not mine.  And most of the rest of it you’ve already heard before.  How it feels to go back to work.  The idiotic things people have said.  Sharing pictures of our babies.  Do you need a tissue?

And it was good.  Sure, it would have been better if we could have had more than pictures for show-and-tell, but we’re both so grateful to have each other, to know that in our most inarticulate speech, the other still understands what we’re trying to say.  We had a good cry.

And Paula summed this whole experience up well.  Death sucks.


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