Two years ago I held your hand and kissed you for the last time.
I’m realizing as this intangible thing we humans have created called “time” goes by just how much in the fog I was when it was the 1 year anniversary.
I was still stunned at the 1 year mark. Still “working through” things. Working hard. Individual counseling, group counseling, being open about my emotions. Working hard on myself and powering through.
“Putting in the work.” As they say.
That focus was actually laying groundwork for what I had no idea was going to happen.
The REAL processing of everything that had happened. I began to be able to see exactly how I had been affected by the years. To be able to process just exactly what in the hell had happened. My laser-like focus on making sure you were taken care of had taken a toll.
You don’t see these things when you’re in the middle of it. You just protect the ones you love. The cost doesn’t matter.
The toll-taker catches up though. Always.
There’s that saying that “Time heals all wounds”, or about 10,000 variations of it.
There’s no healing from a wound like this. There’s only building around that wound. Putting scar tissue around the wound so it’s encapsulated and bearable. That wound can flare up any damn time and bring you to your knees. Believe me, I know (boy do I know…).
I’ve learned how to accept the wound and cherish it. It’s a reminder of a former me. One that I will always be grateful for. A reminder of how I’m a better person because of you. Because of your story, and my place in it.
I’m doing my best to move forward and start the next book of my life.
A chapter really doesn’t work, because a story without you in it, is a completely different tale indeed.
I hope you like what you read. I hope it makes you proud.
I miss you every day but feel close to you when the sun hits my face.
Two years have been an eternity and a blink of an eye.
I guess that’s just the nature of time.