I think about all the things that have changed since you both passed. Some are more recent than others. I’m happy in the new place. It feels the most like home when I was younger and you were there and I didn’t think of anything other than the next day. Things like death and separation and moving were just so bizarre to me. I saw it happen to others but remained unaffected by it. I wasn’t cold. I just didn’t know how to process it other than through the lens of what movies and TV showed me. Like when someone passed away, I knew the right response was to say ‘sorry’. I meant it too, but it’s a platitude. Not insincere yet not wholly true.
Well, it’s different now. I’m older, and understand things so much better. I like to say I’m doing okay, or that I moved on from things. It’s a lie I tell myself so I don’t get overwhelmed by what I’m feeling. Some days it’s harder than others. I don’t mean I break down and sob or just can’t function. It’s in the little things, really: those day to day things that crop up and you think about doing that same thing but it was you going shopping or paying bills or providing for your family and not me. The responsibility of being an adult isn’t just holding down jobs or paying bills. It’s the responsibility of knowing. And that gets damn scary sometimes.
I wish you were still around so I could tell you what’s happening. Trying to imagine such a conversation now seems silly since my memories of you are colored by a much younger version of me. I hadn’t truly lived. I feel like I could connect to you so much more now but. Well. You’re gone. All I have are memories and the hope that if you’re still hanging around, you’re proud.
I love and miss you both. Things are still scary but I’m getting by.