When Kevin died, his daughter kept his Facebook page open. I started sending him direct messages because it felt as if I was speaking to him. Then I started thinking that doing this is a bit mad as he can't read the messages and that I should stop. Then a grief item appeared on Facebook, entitled, 'Today I washed the orange cup'. Told by a mother, who's son had had a drink from an orange, plastic cup, in the bathroom, just before he was taken by ambulance to hospital. Her son didn't come home again. For a very long time the cup stayed untouched because the grieving mother couldn't bring herself to wash away a tiny part of his memory. Finally, one day, she washed the yellow cup but not until she felt able. After reading that story, I have continued to send messages to Kevin. We all have our own symbolic orange cup and we don't need to wash it until we are ready.
Posted by tomsharkey at 2022-06-08 05:13:17 UTC