Someone posted a comment yesterday lamenting the fact that I haven't gone into more emotional depth on my blog regarding how Mandy and I are coping with Jeff's loss. In response I guess I would say that while I appreciate the support of friends and family who are concerned, coping with Jeff's death has been kind of a private thing, and I don't really intend to turn my blog into some kind of group counselling forum or memoir of the grieving process (I understand that there are a lot of people still grieving out there, but I'm just not the guy with the answers). It's not that I mind talking about Jeff or what's happened, but I have become acutely aware over the years that this blog is a public forum (often reaching an unexpected audience), and it just doesn't feel appropriate somehow to post such personal material in a forum which complete strangers have access to.
Nevertheless, speaking only for myself (because I wouldn't presume to speak for Mandy), I can only say that I've been going through a period of reorganizing and restructuring- trying to just accept and allow for the times when I feel bad, but still trying to constantly work to rebuild and reorganize my life in ways that allow me to feel better and happy (which isn't easy to do when you've lost a friend who played such a central role in your day to day life). The bad times come and go, and sometimes they pop up when you least expect them to. Many, many times I have asked myself what Jeff would do in situations similar to the ones I now find myself in, and although it's sometimes a difficult hypothetical (Jeff wasn't prone to discussing sad or depressing topics, opting instead to focus his energy on finding the positive in most situations), I keep coming back to the same answers.
Jeff would stand by his friends. Resolutely. They were of central importance in his life and he went to great lengths to keep them happy, mostly because having happy friends made
him happy (he helped me buy a house, threw a birthday party for me, helped me with my taxes every freakin year, cooked me dinner when I lost my job, and on and on and on....). By the flip side of the same coin, Jeff often became really irritated and agitated if he thought someone or something was upsetting one of his friends. Usually he would try to help out and set things right. When that wasn't possible, sometimes he would just pee on the offending person's car.
Second, even if he were in a depressing situation, Jeff would fight to bring some positive energy into it and to make himself and the people around him find a little happiness. Jeff understood that finding happiness is what makes life worth living, and he would fight to find happiness even in dark situations.
When our group of friends went to the beach in August, I had some doubts about whether it was a good idea so soon after Jeff's death. But in the end it
was a good idea, and my ability to enjoy the trip was helped immeasurably by my absolute confidence in the belief that if Jeff could have been there (or if our roles had been somehow reversed) he would have been the first one to lead the charge and rally the troops for a trip to pull our minds out of the gloom. (Jeff had done such things for me in the past, and I had been with him on a number of occasions when he had experienced some bad luck and then remedied the situation by going out to enjoy some live music or by inviting some friends over to drink some beers and hang out).
Anyway, that's it. I'm just trying to cope with the loss however I can. Sometimes thinking of Jeff provides a guidepost for how to do that. Last night Mandy and I cooked some dinner and watched some TV. Yesterday Mandy got some tile work done on her house to repair some water damage, and it looks nice. She wants to take some trips with friends this year, and I'll probably go with her on a trip or two (around the holidays, in particular, because those will probably be hard).
We're just rebuilding.
That's about all that I've got for today.
I miss Jeff a lot.
Peace to all of you Adventurers.