10 hours

"As I think about him being gone the cannonball hole isn't there. And yet, I still do miss him, won't ever forget him and my eyes hurt when I think about crying."

10 hours later and I take that sentence back. I went to work today, looked at a photo and immediately felt my stomach lurge. Sigh. I am shaking my head that it really did happen. And that the intimacy we had found as friends, lovers, soulmates and partners, to touch, to laugh, to argue, to love is gone. I don't feel like crying, just shaking my head, still, in disbelief.

I read an article today about the groups that are reaching out to each other at the military cemetary - in the section for the newly dead, killed in Iraq or Afghanistan. I found it interesting because no one in my grief group has lost a loved one in that manner. It seems most of the cemetary (I am guessing Arlington, but don't remember) is a reserved, not many visitors and no flowers or decorations allowed on the headstones. In this part of the area, people have left flowers, clean the stones, leave mementos and even just visit for the afternoon.

From the article it seems there is a sense of mutual understanding. They talk to each other, share with each other and help each other. One gentleman sits and reads aloud, moving from grave to grave. The article said that though this is different then the norm for the cemetary, the graves here are fresh. The grief here is new and being dealt with in a way differently then back in the 60's and before. I got the feeling from the article that the grief is similiar amongst the grievers, so they are touching each others lives to find some small solace and unity in their loss.