I've Been a Jerk, and Thanks.

Condolence cards. I've gotten a few. Mostly from people who I'd probably know if I saw them. Bob's friends. And I must admit I've had a shitty attitude toward them. I even ripped one in half immediately upon reading.

So I started stacking them, unopened, on the counter as they arrive at the old place. My past resides there, and so does my grief. Or so I tell myself. My “Letter To The World” is a pile of unopened mail in a half-empty house.

If they really knew the pain and terror of losing the totality of what Bob was in my life, if they wanted to make some gesture of condolence, they'd enclose a check. That's my jerk response.

So to prove how right I am, and how little anyone cares, I opened today's set. Inside was a check. A generous one at that. I began to weep. In my anger, in my grief, I had sold humanity short. I had been a jerk.

Bob and I used to have a joke about people who reject help “on principal,” in movies or tv. “Take the money!” We'd yell. Despite what you think, take an offer of help. No pride in poverty.

So pardon me for being so crass as to be thrilled to take the generous contributions received today. (Turns out there were others in those envelopes) Forgive me for not fully receiving your gestures of condolence. Monetary or not. Admittedly, I've been a jerk.

Perhaps it's the grief.