Deleted

I voted last night, like so many other people.  And as I walked out of the polling place, I was struck by the moments that stab you in the heart that remind you that your loved one has passed.

That's what is so weird about grief.  It's not always some big way in which it hits you, but in so many small ways.  Yesterday, it was noticing how his name was missing from the list of registered voters.  There it was, in black and white...his name had been deleted.  There was my name, there was Dan's name.  But not Ed's.

In the past, we rarely voted together just due to work schedules.  He would go in the morning; I would go in the evening.  And when I went, and the poll worker went to check off my name, I would see his name with it's check mark that he was already there.

But last night, his name was not there.  It didn't make me sad.  It didn't make me cry.  It just was.

And I did not miss the fact that someone passes and we have this system that just takes care of removing their names from the lists of living people.  As I think back, when I needed to update the town census this past year, his name was already removed.  Deleted from many systems.  Marked as "deceased" I'm sure.

But not deleted from my heart or my thoughts or my daily living.  So many names removed from lists and the rest of us are expected to go on.  To keep living.  Which we do and which I did.  I entered the polling booth and make my choices.  And life goes on...