Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I discussed this morning how not having a memorial service for our daughter, because of the Covid, has affected us.  My husband really misses the ritual, but I am relieved it has to be put off for a while.  For me, I can feel myself hanging by a thread, unable to make all the plans and decisions the service will require, where as he misses it as a participant, but without responsibilities.  I'm the rock, and the matriarch.  I know how to do these things, but the thought of the responsibility floors me.  I don't believe in closure, and certainly the grief for my daughter will wax and wane, but be a permanent feature of my life until I die.  Such a wound does not heal completely, though time will help.  One thing the many losses I have faced in my life has taught me is they are always with me, and at moments, alive and vivid, as if we are beyond life and death.  Right now, seeing a photo of my daughter, reading a sympathy card, just a passing glimpse of memory stabs me.  I have so many photos, paintings and mementos around me that are from her, and I looked at old photos of when she was pregnant yesterday, and her young, joyous smile made me happy and devastated at the same time.  I expect this.  This grief I know.  But a memorial service will not make any difference to me.  I will do it for all her friends and family, so that we may honor her.  But it will not take the sting away.