Grief is an odd creature. It likes to sneak up on you and hit you with a wave of sadness unexpectedly.
We went to the mall in a neighboring bigger town Saturday. We go there fairly regularly. The mall has most of the clothing stores my husband and I like to shop at and a play area. Meg always wants to go to the play area. So we go there first and then my husband and I take turns shopping while the other one watches Meg.
This time the playground was full of little boys. Little boys about Meg's age, which of course means I began to wonder about Drew and what he would be doing now. It is odd that this bothered me particularly since Meg does go to preschool, where there are lots of little boys her age as well. Meg of course did notice I was upset and came over to give me a hug and I told her as I do in these situations that I was sad because I missed Drew.
Thank goodness for the distraction of knitting. I had brought a paid of Meg's socks to knit. Otherwise I would have done some major crying in public, again. Not that I really care if I cry in public, but it is a bit awkward.
We have been going to this play area for quite awhile. I remember going there and having them crawl on the mats before they could walk. I remember the first time they were old enough to climb in the slide/ball pit area and they would only do it holding onto one of our hands. I remember early potty training where one of them would need to use the potty just as we had arrived (and of course the potty was a ways away from there) I remember going there just for the distraction during long winter days during break and it being so busy Meg wasn't interested in playing in the slide area but Drew was.
I guess the places that are filled with memories of Drew will always have an ability to hit the grief button at any moment. Perhaps it will wear of eventually, we'll see.