After lunch today I was scrounging for a bit of something sweet. I wasn’t looking for too much, but a bite that would clear my palate and provide the sweet satisfaction of dessert without a bunch of additional energy — I mean calories.
A friend brought over a plate of cookies a week or so ago. It was a nice gesture based on the Girl’s hospitalization and was a welcome, warm gift. Young Son and I enjoyed the cookies immensely. As part of the layout, a few Hershey’s kisses were distributed among the cookies. It was sweet, literally and figuratively.
The kisses disappeared along with the cookies, of course. Such is the nature of things, particularly with a couple of men in the house.
So, in my scrounge, I remembered Wife’s cut-glass Hershey’s Kiss container. There were a few of the silvery treats remaining in the container. So, I snagged them.
The poignancy of the moment wasn’t wasted on me. These were the last of Wife’s kisses. Yes, the grief rose up a bit to show itself once again. It’s still there, of course. I shared the last of the kisses with Young Son, who immediately made the connection when I told him the source.
We each reflected on the last kisses in our own way. This is a year of many firsts and lasts. It is my year to grieve my loss, process my grief, own my grief, and I hope and pray to be healed of my grief. It is what it is.