Every once in a while grief can just sneak up on you and bite you in the butt.
About a year and a half ago a person very special to my family passed away. He was very special to my son - he was his mentor, teacher and friend.
My son struggled for a long time and took comfort in continuing his work at the school library, where his friend Steve was the librarian. Of course Steve was a teacher and my son a student helper, but when Steve got sick my son Marius promised that he would take care of the library.
Marius has done just that in the past 18 months, cherishing the memories and holding on to each little piece of their time together. Last September a new librarian took over and in the last few months I just had a feeling that my little guy was done, ready to close that chapter of his life.
The library is not a place where Marius wants to be anymore, not kept in Steve's spirit and I can tell that he's not comfortable there anymore. So I went and talked to his classroom teacher, who agreed with me and together with Marius we decided to find a new occupation, a new purpose for him.
So far so good - until I noticed this weekend that Marius was sad, looking at Steve's picture he keeps in his room and reading the Dr. Seuss book he got from him over and over again.
We talked about it and it turns out that my little guy is feeling guilty. He feels like he's not honouring Steve's memory by "quitting". He can't stand being in the library anymore, yet he can't find it in his little heart to close the book for good.
I reassured him that Steve would have wanted him to move on, to grow and to venture out in the world. He always had a Dr. Seuss quote for every occasion... I wish he was still here.