A story of grief by a man and a boy
It would appear that the calculator in my brain hasn’t adjusted to the figures that make up my new life.
Having just been on a week away with my two best men and their respective wife and girlfriend, we’ve needed to quote numbers for taxis, restaurants and when ordering beers at the bar. But the numbers never seem to add up. My friends would order five drinks from the waiter or ask for a table that couldn’t quite fit three complete couples and two kids.
Although I have no real problem with basic maths, it’s like my mental abacus is missing a counter. Becoming an odd number so suddenly just doesn’t seem to add up.
And I think what makes it really hard is that it’s an equation that I wasn’t able to learn before the exam.
It’s like I missed the class on this basic mental arithmetic. Our two became one without me even picking up my pen. Previous life lessons of going from double to single haven’t taught me anything that I can apply to this test. My life has become divided – the even part is in the past and I’m left living the odd. I don’t feel equal anymore. My happiness has been subtracted and the pain just keeps multiplying. My plus one has gone and I can’t sum myself up.
Perhaps maths is not my strong point or maybe it just has no place in grief. It’s a subject that only has definitive answers and no room for judgement nor error.
So perhaps I’ll concentrate on philosophy instead.
How can the mind comes to terms with a relationship ending without having called the shots or agreed the terms?
How can a marriage just stop so abruptly without a break-up or a breakdown?
How can I find any comfort in a pointless death, which followed no pain?
And how can I count my blessings if I’ve just calculated that mathematics is a study lost on loss?