7 years.
I sit here looking at that, just letting it sink in. Tears form in my eyes and my lungs tighten. How? How could 7 years have passed?
I’m trying to reflect and identify what is it that I’m feeling. What is the same and what is different from 2,555 days ago as I have progressed and lived with grief and loss.
As I’ve always said, my love for Brandon and the pain of the loss of Brandon are the same. But it feels that everything else is different.
Some things I’m glad are different. Like the presence of grief is very much incorporated into my life in what I think is a healthy balance. It’s been a while since it has consumed me or has been what felt like my primary identity; widowed.
I am different, in some ways I’m proud of and others I’m not.
Aria is different, she is a 7 year old developing her sense of self and individuality.
Life is just different. As good as that can be, it’s also such a challenge when part of your heart lives in the past.
My memories are different. Foggier. And I have to search my mind for some details.
I think this specifically is what anyone who has lost someone is so scared of. And this may be more unique to me; that I often have to search my mind to recall things that were so familiar once - you think you’d never forget.
The other day as I was looking at a menu it randomly crossed my mind that I wasn’t sure what soda Brandon would have ordered. Sprite? Ginger ale? Coke? Why can’t I remember this? What else have I forgotten? What else will I forget?
I know I will never forget the important things, like how selfless he was. Or how he could empathize with others and have the perfect words of wisdom to give guidance. And I take so much comfort in that.
But this is a journey that will be a part of the rest of my life and it evolves, just as I evolve. I know I can not move forward in my life by holding on to everything in my past. It just does not work that way. But knowing that truth still doesn’t make these realizations along the way hurt any less. It just helps me know I have to allow space for these feelings so I can hold them, and have them, and then make peace with them.
So here I am, journaling/writing - my way of identifying and coping with these feelings that come with grief.
But don’t get me wrong - I do not live in this space. I carve out time on days like these to revisit this part of myself. Remember. Feel. Honor. Embrace. This allows me to then set it aside for a while, and focus on continuing to live the life I have which is beautiful.
