"Enjoy" and non-linear progress

Our television is not connected to any TV network. We only use it for watching DVDs. I have not watched TV programmes, except at my parents' house or in hotel rooms, for just over 5 years now. When I last had a TV, I used to waste hours watching crap I wasn't really interested in. I had no self-discipline (and still have none - one evening when we were resting in our hotel in Sicily, we got sucked into watching Miss Italia 2006. And neither of us even speak Italian). With DVDs, I can at least say I'm always watching something that I actually wanted to watch instead of mindless zapping.

That's not to say I don't waste time watching DVDs though. At the weekend, DH bought the first series of "24" on DVD. We had never seen a single episode before. It's a little too easy to get sucked in when the answer to this episode's cliffhanger is a mere few remote control clicks away. And there are no ads, you can skip the titles and the "Previously on 24" stuff (you definitely don't need a reminder when you saw it a few seconds before).

So DH and I spent large portions of this weekend's evenings watching episodes of 24 Season 1. And I enjoyed it. Yes, I can use the word "enjoy" again. And I have made some small progress. I couldn't sit through the first film I watched on DVD after Moksha died. I couldn't concentrate and I felt unbelievably guilty about watching it. My parents were still here and they had gone out to let DH and I have an evening to ourselves. It was a disaster.

The progress is definitely not linear. Friday night was also a disaster. We had dinner with DH's parents and his visiting aunt and uncle. No-one mentioned Moksha, not once. After an hour or so of meaningless chit-chat, I couldn't take it any more and started crying at the end of the table. No-one knew what to say and so no-one said anything. There were two classically pink elephants in the room that no-one mentioned: Moksha himself and the fact that I was at the end of the table crying.

I felt as though Moksha was a topic of which everyone was ashamed. Eventually I got up and went to sob uncontrollably in the car outside on my own. DH came to find me. He said goodbye to everyone on my behalf and his aunt and uncle were destroyed that they had unwittingly made my pain worse. They just hadn't known what to say to the extent that they didn't once acknowledge that our son had died and been born since we last saw them.

It is the hardest thing, this non-linear progress. For one or two days I can feel okay and then BAM, it all comes back again. It's hard seeing people for the first time since Moksha was born. I often feel like people want to sweep him under the carpet. And yes, I am also upset when people say the "wrong" thing. But is, "I'm so sorry that your son died," so difficult? People (unless they've lived through it themselves) don't need to offer advice or reasons. Just express some compassion.