The Hater

Someone sent me a series of increasingly shitty messages today about how I am grieving too much, grieving the wrong way, and continued to amp it, culminating in this (verbatim):

"Keep chasing away people who tell you harsh truths and genuinely care for the paths you're taking. It never works out well, but I truly wish the best for you."

before I finally blocked him on every conceivable communication platform.  I have no idea why this person wants to tell me what he calls "harsh truths".  And they are his truths.  Not my truths.  I write and talk about my truths.  So why this person (or any person) would presume to think there is some absolute "truth" in the world that I need to be aware of, and disabused of "my" apparent non-truth, is baffling. 

But, as my friends summarized quite succinctly:

"His complaint essentially boils down to ‘the content you were producing on Facebook was not to my liking and your real life struggles bored me’. What an utterly terrible person!"

Yup, that covers it.  

Good god, when you grieve publicly, you attract some assholes who think they need to teach you how to grieve.  No thanks.  I am doing just fine on my own with my actual friends.  Crikey.

I also took a great deal of comfort in the fact that my late, amazing husband knew this guy and he would, if it were some possible from an afterlife, absolutely fucking annihilate this guy for hurting his grieving wife.  He. Would. Kick. His. Ass.  Chad was the most even tempered, chill guy ever.  Except - if you hurt his wife or son.  Then, get the fuck outta the way because you were gonna be in for the brunt end of his impressive ire.  And perhaps because it was used so judiciously, and due to his disability, had to be purely verbal, was something of perverse beauty to behold on the extremely rare occasions when it occurred. So when I got upset at this guy's words, I just imagined Chad, and what he would have said to this asshole.  

And I felt a whole lot better.