Until now the thought of reading this account of Asher's death has been too painful for me, but perhaps I am reaching the moment when I can go back over what I wrote and live with it.
No day goes by without thoughts about him.
I wear his ring sometimes, to feel close to him.
I wish he could meet his younger sister's husband and their baby.
I wish he could follow the growth of his other two nephews and his niece, whom he loved so much.
I think of how much a dynamic person like Asher might have accomplished in the five years since he died.
And I know that they might have been difficult years for him, not necessarily years of success and fulfillment, but perhaps failure and disappointment. Most likely a mixture of them all, like most people's lives.
Obviously even failure and disappointment are preferable to oblivion.
We have visited his grave from time to time, and every time I go there, I feel: that couldn't be him! What's under that stone isn't Asher.
I keep thinking, "If only..."
If he'd had a serious girlfriend, maybe he wouldn't have gone to Peru and gotten himself killed.
I do wish he had had a life companion, although, since he died, perhaps it's better that he didn't leave a bereaved spouse behind.
There are an infinite number of things that didn't happen, that could have happened, and that would have prevented his death. There's no point thinking that way.
I realize that we are not alone in our bereavement and grief. The world is full of people whose children, siblings, and spouses have died, and everyone eventually loses their parents, unless they die first.
No day goes by without thoughts about him.
I wear his ring sometimes, to feel close to him.
I wish he could meet his younger sister's husband and their baby.
I wish he could follow the growth of his other two nephews and his niece, whom he loved so much.
I think of how much a dynamic person like Asher might have accomplished in the five years since he died.
And I know that they might have been difficult years for him, not necessarily years of success and fulfillment, but perhaps failure and disappointment. Most likely a mixture of them all, like most people's lives.
Obviously even failure and disappointment are preferable to oblivion.
We have visited his grave from time to time, and every time I go there, I feel: that couldn't be him! What's under that stone isn't Asher.
I keep thinking, "If only..."
If he'd had a serious girlfriend, maybe he wouldn't have gone to Peru and gotten himself killed.
I do wish he had had a life companion, although, since he died, perhaps it's better that he didn't leave a bereaved spouse behind.
There are an infinite number of things that didn't happen, that could have happened, and that would have prevented his death. There's no point thinking that way.
I realize that we are not alone in our bereavement and grief. The world is full of people whose children, siblings, and spouses have died, and everyone eventually loses their parents, unless they die first.
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