March 16th, 2004

Today at work

a co-worker, call him Sam, described me as a father of three, then inquired, "that's right, isn't it?" I said yes, I am. Then another worker jumped in and said she thought I only had two children. One died, I said. Oh, I didn't know that, said Sam.

Well, actually, he did know. At one time. At the period of my daughter's death, I was working in the same small office he was. But it was a little over ten years ago, and he had simply forgotten. I didn't remind him. I preferred to let it glide.

I saw George Carlin on Bill Maher's show the other day. He was lamenting the spread of monuments to grief. He suggested people keep their griefs to themselves so that he didn't have to share it. My wife and I laughed as he said it. I felt the truth of it from both sides.

Rhyme of the day:

I built a monument of grief
And found it offered some relief.
Words of praise, of love, of sadness,
Helped me walk the edge of madness.