If I had a box just for wishes and dreams that had never come true The box would be empty except for
One year. Twelve months. Three hundred and sixty five days.
Time passes at what seems like variable speeds. When we were kids the summer went by in a flash and the school year was an eternity.
As adults there comes a point in our lives where every holiday season we turn to each-other and say "Where did this year go?"
2017 was the slowest, fastest year ever.
It sped by and slogged on.
It was by all calculations the worst year of my life.
The 365 days between January 29th, 2017 and January 29th, 2018 have been some of the hardest, saddest and darkest days.
It was also one of the most selfish, self-centered times in my life. I was absorbed with my grief, my pain, my list of to-do's.
My, my, my.
I know my friends and family shared in this grief, as well as experienced pains and losses totally unrelated.
I tried. I really did try to be empathetic, sympathetic, present, engaged.
Some days I did an okay job. Most days were for shit.
I'm sick of myself, I'm sure they are too.
Thanks for putting up with me.
Today is the one year anniversary of his death. It is a day I have been dreading. A marker that is supposed to somehow signify to the world what? That I should get on with it now? That I should be ready for (fill in the blank here)?
What does it mean to me?
It feels like an artificial timestamp on my heart.
I refuse to accept that I should be anywhere in my grief other than right where I am.
Which happens to be wallowing deep. Tissue boxes full.
I wasn't sure what I was going to do today. I'd been thinking about the day for some time. I considered having a real experience today, like hot air ballooning but quickly realized I didn't want to make a real Australia memory that was linked to the anniversary of his death. I wasn't even sure I would be able to get out of bed when the day came.
I did get up. And cry. I used a lot of tissues.
I reread some posts from Facebook from a year ago.
I watched some videos from the services. I cried some more.
I went to breakfast. I went to the beach.
I took some of his remains with me.
Ultimately, today is the next day in front of me. Another opportunity to try to do better with others. To give myself the time and space I need. To be more present. To be more honest. To be more open with the people still here. My confidant is gone. I have to let others in if I want some help getting through.
Today I had a very honest conversation with his brother via text.
As I said on the homepage here, I would be honest, and share the tears.
Below is some of that conversation.
