The Worst Waiting Game

I feel like grieving before someone is gone is one of the more mindfucking, yet less discussed, aspects of loss.

Whether it’s a long battle with illness where you reach the point of no return and you’re now discussing hospice and comfort care…

Or if it’s still sudden, but they’re hanging on with life support.

You’re looking at them.

They’re still breathing.

But you’re mourning.

And you feel MORBID AF.

They’re still here, but they’re not.

One foot in each world…

Your heart is broken, but your grief can’t fully process yet because while it’s inevitable, right in front of your very eyes in some cases, they are still there… breathing.

Letting go

We’re all letting go.

They’re letting go of this life for whatever comes after.  As my Pap liked to say, “Now they know the secret.”  They’re letting go of this body.  They’re letting go of all that attaches them to this life.

We’re letting go of them.

But we don’t want to.  We’re not ready.

We think we get ready, sometimes, when it’s illness.  Sometimes we convince ourselves that we’re preparing ourselves… but when that time comes.

When that final breath leaves their body….

You weren’t ready.

You’re never ready.

I think sometimes we’re about as ready as we can humanly get.  I think that we’re unable to get there any other way than the ways we do it.  But it sure is a mindfuck, ain’t it?

Your brain starts to go to selfish things.  You see them, they’re in their final weeks, or days, or hours… and you’re thinking about how much you’re going to miss them.  Sometimes your brain strays to errant thoughts about things like what you’ll wear to the funeral, what you might say in the eulogy… and then you get furious at yourself.   You feel horrible.  How can you possibly be thinking of these things right now instead of enjoying what moments you have left with them?
But think about that part too.

“enjoying what moments you have left with them”

How do you REALLY enjoy them?

You can appreciate the time spent with family.  You can appreciate shoulders to cry on if you’re lucky enough to have them…

But enjoying it?  Wow… I mean… like, that’s just so hard.

In the back of your mind remains the goodbye.  The back, the front, it sort of bounces back and forth.

Now, me?  I don’t think about what I’ll wear the funeral anymore, but I used to.  That’s why I put that up there.  That used to be something that occurred to me at some point.

Now it doesn’t matter.

I have a funeral section in my closet.  There are things ranging in 4 different sizes, with choices for various types of weather, from all the funeral outfits of those gone before where I built up this morbidly practical collection.

When I met my husband he felt that was horrible… but for me… for me it was a part of life.

I’ve had those losses that came out of nowhere where I had nothing to wear and I had to take myself and the kids shopping at the last minute when I had 847 other things to do and shopping was the last thing I wanted to do.

For those that know me… they know how much I hate shopping. Lol

But it’s a lot.

But anyways, I digress.

Sometimes we sit around and tell stories.

Sometimes we go grab a bite to eat, afraid to leave and miss it.

I think about things a lot.  I think about what those last moments are like.

I’ve had a few.  I’ve had those moments that I thought with absolute certainty would be my last.

I know what I’ll spend my final moments thinking about.

And I’m not afraid.  I’ll be devastated leaving my kids behind, but I’m not afraid of death.

I have far more people on that side than this one at this point.

A large part of me can’t wait to wrap my arms around Gigi again and hug my sisters.

What do other people think about?

I’ve seen plenty of people take that last breath.

I’ve spoken to many in the days leading up to their death.

The answers are always different, which makes the pondering endless..

Will you wonder what your next life will bring? I mean, if you believe in reincarnation. I do, so I think about those things, but other people wouldn’t.

Will you wonder who each of your loves in this life will be to you in the next?  Will your daughter be your mother? Will your son be your brother? Will you reunite with the love of your life in your next life?

What life will you choose? What obstacles will you face?

Or do you fight it?

Do you fight to hang on?  Do you fight eternal darkness or possible damnation? Do you fight the unknown that awaits us there? … finding out the secret?

Do we panic?

Are we calm?

Do we find peace? Redemption?

Do we find anything at all?

Is it a guide?
Are they all waiting for us like an airport terminal?

I wish I could be there to hold your hand, Mother of my Heart.

I’ve already planned your tattoo, and that breaks my heart.  It makes me feel so morbid.

I’m braced to lose you.

I’m braced for the phone call that means you’re really gone.

But I’m not.

It’s 2am here.

It’s almost today where you are.

Will you make it?

Are you ready?

I don’t want to do your tattoo.  I don’t want to ask for a funeral card to be mailed to me because I can’t make it across the country to be there in person.

I don’t want to.

I don’t want to.

I DON’T WANT TO.

But I have to.

We all have to.

Your husband has to.

Your daughters have to.

Your sons have to.

Your grandchildren have to.

Your nieces and nephews have to.

Everyone who has ever known you will mourn when you go.

What a life well spent.

What a legacy to leave behind…

What a loss for us.

But you’re still here.

YOU ARE STILL HERE

I DO NOT WANT TO BE SAD

I DO NOT WANT TO LOSE YOU

You see, folks.  My mother of my heart?  I’ve never even gotten a hug from her.

This woman has saved my life, literally saved my life, and I’ve never hugged her.

I was her daughter of her heart for… oh, nearly a decade now.

We’ve spoken on the phone, through messages, through mail…

My own mother, well, she’s a piece of work and we’ll leave it at that because this isn’t about her.

I’ve had many pseudo moms in my life and I’ve lost every single one.

I’m afraid to find another and risk condemning her to an early death.

Cindy, she is the only reason I survived high school.  Her, her husband Mark (my cousin,) and Nells.

She taught me what it felt like to be loved for who I was.  Tripped me out.

She had a heart attack just over 10 years ago.

My oldest was 3.

Her husband just passed on last year.

(But I just saw nells a couple months ago <3 )

Debbie.  She was very much like a mom to me during the years I spent in Kentucky.  Prevented me from being homeless twice.

She died of cancer not long after I moved back to Pittsburgh.

I still wonder if she knew how much she meant to me.

Gigi….

Gigi was so many things to me, but a mom was one of them.

Losing her…. I just can’t.

I don’t think I’ll ever be the same since losing her.

And now Z.. Mother of my Heart.

Now you.

I’m such a selfish jerk, just thinking about having to lose you.

I’m heartbroken for your family, your family there with you. .. your real family.

I can’t sleep.

I can’t sleep because I’m waiting for a phone call or a message that I don’t want to get.

I’m thinking a thousand things.

I’m not thinking about things left unsaid though.

I have felt loved by you from the moment we met.

I know you know how much that love is returned.

And that love doesn’t die with you.

That love continues until my own dying breath, and the dying breaths of everyone who ever knew you and was influenced by you.

That saying about how we die twice… your second death will take quite some time because there are things you taught me that I have already taught my children, who will pass it on to theirs.

It’s just not good enough.

Goodbye has already been said…

Grief is already tearing my soul apart.

And you’re still breathing…

What a mindfuck.

Runes Poem

Here's a little poem I wrote for a dear friend's birthday that I thought I would also share here. 
I tried to include key words and general feelings for each rune (Elder Futhark) to be able to have it as a learning tool.
After all, it's far easier to remember song lyrics than an essay.

Hope you like it!  Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments!

Fehu will bring to us fortune and cattle,

Hope for the future, spoils of battle.

Uruz, the ox, untamed and courageous,

Things will change for the better because he’s tenacious.

Thurisaz can really be a thorn in one’s side,

An instinctual purging for one hell of a ride.

Ansuz will give you harmony and inspiration,

The truth will be known through healthy conversation.

Raidho, the wagon, is a journey of both body and mind,

Once you make the decision, new perspective you’ll find.

Kenaz will reveal with fire and passion,

a beacon of knowledge in a transformative fashion.

Gebo reminds us to take, we must give,

Balance is important when trying to live.

Wunjo shows up when our hearts fill with joy,

For you know your own worth now, you’re nobody’s toy.

Hagalaz will test you, raining hail from the sky

But you’ll pass, you can do it, the home stretch is nigh.

Nauthiz is really the last thing you need,

Rely on yourself, push through, but take heed.

Isa brings frustrating challenges of ice,

You’re running in place and it doesn’t feel very nice.

Jera, will show up when you reap what you’ve sown,

The wheel turns and brings change in time of its own.

Eihwaz will give Yew strength,  protect and endure,

It’s your purpose that drives you, of that you are sure.

Perthro is pure and raw feminine power,

You might feel unsure, but you uncover more by the hour.

Algiz, the elk, will offer you shelter through strife,

Keep up your shield and fight for your life.

Sowilo brings good tidings with the sun’s rays

Success is yours, you deserve it in so many ways.

Tiwaz, the sky God, has written victory in the stars,

Fight smart and be strong, only warriors have scars.

Berkano, the birch Goddess, fertile and new,

Promises growth and desire for a brand new you.

Ehwaz is not the time to hold your horses,

There’s a merging of two very unstoppable forces.

Mannaz, reminds us to be fair to our fellow man,

Forethought and awareness are best… when we can.

Laguz is the water from which life itself flows,

We win some, we lose some, but that’s how it goes.

Ingwaz, the earth God, so strong and so sure,

Tie up all those loose strings before you leave shore.

Dagaz reminds us a new day will dawn,

Release the old day, the old you, they are gone.

Othala reminds us of things sentimental,

Our ancestors guide us, the home remains central.

The Cyclical Circle

This is probably going to be a long one, but hopefully worthwhile. 

A lot of conversations in my life recently have involved grief.  It makes sense given my recent situation, but it never fails to bring up some new questions.  While some people have known me throughout all of the losses, others have come and gone throughout.  Your circle shifts constantly.  There are those who remain in it forever, and others who stay for a long time, even their lifetime, while others sort of wiggle in and shift out on their own.  Which is, as you can imagine given the title of the blog post, the topic of discussion here: our circles. 

While the ones who have known you throughout have already had their opportunities to ask questions or attempt to offer comfort, new people haven’t.  That’s not even factoring in the questions they might have over previous losses that they don’t know how to approach.  This has happened a lot, actually.  Someone hears that I lost numerous siblings and it’s natural to me for them to want to know what happened.  But they feel like since it happened a while back that they don’t want to ask to rehash things.  But I remember it all the time.  It’s not like I suddenly woke up one morning and forgot they were gone.  Though I’ll admit there are moments and when you remember… out goes that rug, right out from underneath you.  But in general, no, I do not forget that they’re gone; nor how they died.  But, given how they died, how young they were… it creates more curiosity.  And then they say something along the lines of, “I didn’t know you back then/didn’t know you well enough back then to ask, but how did your sisters die?” and when the answers are, “Suicide and murder” you can imagine the reactions. 
But then, there’s also even more curiosity involved.  Just because this was a trauma in my life I still am not clueless that it’s human nature to be curious.  Like sayings involving train wrecks… you don’t want to watch, but you can’t help but look.  You want to know.  But they don’t want to ask.  Or if they do ask, they’re pretty nervous about it.  But I just answer.  It’s what happened.  What upset me happened.  Talking about it doesn’t necessarily upset me, and even if it does.. that happens anyways.  That’s a part of my existence. 
Ask me.  I’ll answer.  But don’t assume the same for everyone else who is grieving because I know a whole lot of people who prefer not to ‘revisit traumas’ and that’s fine.  It’s a personal journey.  I just happen to be a pretty open book about most things and I think because of how much loss I’ve experienced it’s changed a lot of the ways I view things like that. 
Not only have I lost people, but I’ve lost that ‘first phone call’ person more than once.  That is nothing short of a nightmare. 
So then the question comes up about how you cope with it..

How do you cope?  I don’t know, but I know how I do. 
A new question brought up a train of thought that I’d like to share to see if it resonates with any of you wonderful folks out there reading this. 
My response involved your circle.  Your circle may not be what you think it is though. 
You have your inner circle, your extended circle, your outside circle, and your rotating circle. 
This can vary.  One might assume that your inner circle is immediate family.  It can be, of course, but not necessarily.  What about the person who lost their family?  The only child who lost their parents?  You can’t just assume that everyone has living people in their immediate family, NOR that they are close to them.  While in an ideal world we would all remain close to our parents, siblings, etc… that isn’t always the case.  But what happens in those cases, in most of those cases, is that you still create an inner circle for yourself, it’s just not people related to you. 
Your extended circle… Now, I come from a huge family yet there are some immediate family that I wouldn’t even put into a rotating circle, let alone outer, extended, or inner… but in this case we’ll use me as the example. 
My inner circle involves my husband, children, and a few friends that became family. 
My extended circle mostly involves close friends, but there’s a cousin or two in there. 
The outer circle involves the people you deal with on a daily basis that you may not even realize are a part of your circle until they become absent from it.  Maybe even social media friends that you don’t even really talk to much except through likes and comments. 
The rotating circle consists of the people who are a regular part of your life, but not people you talk to on a daily basis or even a regular basis.  Your mailman, UPS guy, pizza delivery person.. say you work in an office that orders items but you only talk to that person every few months or even once or twice a year, but it’s always the same person. 

Each person in your circle provides you with something and you provide something in return.  There’s always give and take.  When the give and take doesn’t exist the relationship usually gets an expiration date.  You may not realize what they’re providing you with, and it may not be the obvious thing. 
One might associate mothers with nurturing; a natural enough assumption.  We can’t forget though that there are exceptions to every rule. 
For example… Not every mother is nurturing.  But everyone needs it, so someone else in your circle provides you with it.  It can be a grandparent, an aunt, a cousin, a sibling, a friend, but it is provided. 
Without it, you’ll feel something is missing.  You might not even be able to place what it is, but it’ll just feel incomplete. 
Same thing with wisdom and advice.  It might be a parent or a grandparent, an aunt or uncle.  I think we sort of associate wisdom with age so we look for it from those older than us, but it can just as easily come from younger peers or even your own children. 
One might also assume that your spouse is the person who will make you feel the most attractive.  But let’s use this example. 
You’re married.  But your spouse isn’t really flattering and doesn’t make you feel physically attractive.  Now, let’s say you stop for coffee every morning before work.  It’s your treat, part of your routine… not even something you really think about because it’s become habit.  You wouldn’t even consider that coffee shop clerk to be someone in your circle.  But let’s say that every morning when you stop in there, the clerk compliments you.  Something simple, but just a little pick me up that starts your day. 

Because the flattery fulfills that need you haven’t even realized that your spouse doesn’t compliment you anymore.  It’s not something that is even on your radar. 
But now the clerk’s shift changed, or they got a promotion, or they moved.  They’re not there anymore.  The new clerk barely acknowledges you, just takes your order and you move along. 
Not something you’d necessarily even pay much attention to. 
Until a few days goes by, or a few weeks.  Now you’re feeling weird.  You start to notice that your spouse doesn’t compliment you anymore.  You’ve lost your pick me up.  You start to get mad at your spouse for not making you feel attractive anymore.  But, until the coffee shop clerk wasn’t there, you were fine.  Your spouse thinks you’re  coming up with this out of left field.  You get into a big fight.  They’ve always been this way, you see, you just didn’t notice because before the need was still being met so it wasn’t an issue. 
Now it’s causing issues in your marriage.
You don’t realize it’s the coffee store clerk though.  You can’t even put your finger on why all of the sudden it’s an issue.  Because it wasn’t.  Not until the circle shifted. 

When your circle is intact things can be amazing.  Really amazing.  Lots of forward momentum.  Lots of drive.  You have support.  You feel loved.  You feel whole. 
You move right along, like a wheel just rolling down the road. 

But then a piece of your circle goes missing…

If you take a piece out of the circle it’s not going to keep rolling right along, the gap from the missing piece causes the wheel to catch on something. 
If you don’t know what’s missing it can be really difficult to figure out what the issue is. 

If you don’t figure out what’s missing and manage to correct it, it’s really easy to get stuck. 
You don’t feel like you’re moving forward, because you aren’t.  The circle is broken.
If it’s just a tiny piece missing it may just cause a bump or two in the road.  But if it’s a big piece it’s almost impossible not to get stuck somewhere, at some point. 

Sometimes the missing piece is really obvious.  Someone died… a parent, child, sibling, friend, etc. 
When someone dies that is part of our circle it’s easy to know what’s missing. 
Even when someone leaves the circle because of some friendship ending fight, it’s obvious what’s missing.  There was a clear catalyst. 

Side tangent.  How you lose the person can really affect how things pan out. 
If you lose someone to death, your memories are still intact.  If anything they now have a rose colored tint on them.  You can still treasure them. 
When you lose someone to a friendship ending fight or a divorce or whatever it’s very different. 
Now all of those memories you have that they were involved in are anything but rose colored. 

More like they’ve been splattered in shit. 

It also doesn’t have to be *just* the person you lost in the divorce or fight either.  You don’t just lose the one person, you lose their circle.  You might have been really close to your in laws but now things are strained.  You might have had drinks each week with other couples, but they were your partner’s friends so they got them in the divorce too. 
With death people still often try to stay close.  I still talk to a lot of people where the person we had in common was lost, but talking to each other makes us still feel closer to the one we lost.  It keeps pieces of them in our lives.  Not always, but there’s usually one or two. 
Divorces and fights are always messy.  There are exceptions so if you’re sitting there like “I have no clue what this bitch is talking about” then good on you.  Seriously.  That’s fucking awesome. 
And if you’re nodding along... I’m sorry.  I hope something in this post helps you the next time around.  It took me a lot of really big losses to reach a lot of the perspectives I have on things.  I figured if I can help even one person by sharing what I’ve learned then that’s probably the very best thing that can come from it.  It’s not just pointless pain. 

But what happens when you can’t find the catalyst to figure out what is missing? 

An example I had used with my husband while I was talking to him was actually internet memes/jokes.  Now, I have my own sense of humour.  My husband has his.  A lot of it overlaps.  We spend a lot of time together laughing.  But there are jokes that I don’t find funny anymore usually because of one of the traumas I’ve been through.  It often just hits a little too close to home and I’m sent to a place that’s still too dark for me to visit often.  This one time, years ago, he’d said that he felt he couldn’t even laugh at the jokes anymore to which I told him was fucking absurd.  Of course he can.  If all my friends can bitch about the stupid ass shit their partners do or say or find funny, so can I.  I don’t want to be left out of the fun.  Of course you still laugh.  Just maybe not with me about it.  Which was the example.  He has plenty of other friends through social media who find those jokes just as hilarious as he still does. 
These people might not even be people he knows.  They could just be a random person he accumulated on his page because of one conversation on a musician forum in 2003.  If they left social media or died or something, he may not notice right away what was missing.  He may not even notice for some time that they weren’t still posting those jokes.  But maybe not if it happens, after the big conversation we had where I was discussing this entire idea for a blog post with him, maybe he’ll notice sooner.  He might just feel like social media isn’t quite as much fun.  The same as with his friends that share so many things on so many topics.  They all give him something I can’t. 
That doesn’t mean I’m not good enough.  I’m only one part of his circle. 
I’m only one woman. 

I’m sure you have friends like that too whether through social media or coworkers or whatever.  People that you don’t consider part of your circle necessarily, but who have the potential to really impact you with their absence.  Just not in an obvious way. 
I can’t help you notice it sooner, but maybe after reading this I sort of can because maybe now when you feel something is missing, you’ll check your circle to see if you can figure it out. 

I’m calling things needs but they aren’t actual needs.  But they sort of are.  They’re personal so they differ from person to person, but, it’s not like a physical need… more a mental health or emotional ‘need.’
Things like that person you share that sense of humour with.  It can be dark, silly, punny, etc.  It’s that you share it.  They can be your saltmate where it’s who you bitch about the same things with.
Maybe someone you party with; a drinking or smoking buddy.
A neighbor.  This can seem unimportant to some people but get one super shitty neighbor after a super awesome one who knew how to mind their own fucking business moved out.  You’ll get it. 
A confidante, whether religious/spiritual oriented, advice oriented, what have you... we all need someone to confide in who gets it and doesn’t judge us for every mistake we make. 
Someone who goes on the same rants about their partner, but they know you still love your partner… you just need someone to bitch about the bullshit with just like they can do with you because when they do it you don’t take it as ‘Leave his sorry ass, dummy!’ you just take it as, “I get it, That shit is annoying AF!”
If you have kids you’ll have parent friends.  They may or may not have similar parenting styles.  I’ve found that you do better having some parent friends with different styles because they’re far more likely to suggest something you wouldn’t have otherwise thought of should you be dealing with one of those situations where you’ve already tried every possible thing you can think of and nothing is fucking working.  HALP! Or just that you have kids the same age or whatever. 
If you went to college, your college friends.  They are the others who keep the memories you shared and nobody else was there so you maintain that part of your life through that connection to it. 
Perhaps you’ve shared traumas or struggles.
Perhaps you suffer through similar medical issues or disabilities. 
Maybe they’re you’re cheerleader and they give you that much needed pep talk when you’re feeling down, but they do it in the right way. 

Maybe they share the same darkness you do, going through depression at the same time.  They get you.

Maybe you shared a childhood together.  Your “Good ol’ days” friends such as elementary school friends, friends from your neighborhood or street, kids you rode the bus with, cousins, siblings, neighbors, etc. 
Maybe a work colleague at a job you left some time ago. 
A classmate. 
Maybe you shared a phase together.  You went through the same punk, emo, whatever phase and you can laugh with them about it now and then as you walk down memory lane. 
Maybe you have the same tastes in music, movies, TV, fandom, books…
You do the same crafts or share a hobby.
You work in the same trade.
A military buddy.
A band mate.
Someone you debate with who can actually hold a fucking debate without trying to change your mind or you change theirs, you just actually debate the topics so that you can understand more instead of so you can control the other person and refuse to respect their right to their own opinion; politics or religion are good examples of true tests to that.  If you can debate politics and religion with someone without hating each other at the end of the convo, you’ve found yourself a keeper. 
Even sports fans with rival teams to jag around with. 

These are all people we can find that make up smaller pieces to our circle where we may not even notice it because that one thing is all they provided.  It didn’t seem necessary.  But the absence of them will be felt. 

When a really important part of your circle goes missing….
the silence caused by the absence of them…
It’s deafening. 
When it’s someone you didn’t realize was even a part of your circle goes missing…

The silence may just be the occasional whisper.
But the absence is still a gap in the circle. 
Something I’ve noticed as well is that remaining people in your circle can get jealous or feel they aren’t enough because of how deafening this silence is for you.  I was going to say it’s difficult to explain, but it’s not now that I think about it.  All of the other voices are still every bit as beautiful, sometimes even moreso now, they are every bit as important.  But they aren’t THAT voice.  They can’t be.  Their voice is their own and if their voice goes missing it will be the same thing just with a different voice. 

Your circle is a choir. 

You can still hear a beautiful song with one or two people missing from the concert. 
But it’s nothing compared to the harmony of ALL of the voices together. 

It’s nothing against your voice.  Your voice is beautiful.  I need to hear it.  I LOVE to hear it. 
So was hers and hers is gone. 

It’s not comparable.  It’s just… an incomplete harmony. 

Now, the more recent loss was a big one.  I’m struggling a lot, hence the unexpected break with blog posts.  Things have hit me hard and that’s okay.  I mean, it’s not, but it is.  I was telling someone the other day though that even though I KNOW this will get easier, that I know someday I’ll tell those stories without crying, someday I’ll do better at honoring her memory instead of just mourning her (though the mourning sort of always remains to some extent, just not covering your existence,) I KNOW this will happen because it’s happened every other time. 
But it doesn’t matter.
Not when you’re in the thick of it. 
When you’re in the thick of it… it feels like…. Like forever.  And forever feels like, well, forever. 

A really long time. 
And it fucking sucks. 

What happened after was, I believe, Gigi giving me a new friend.  She didn’t want me getting stuck again with a missing piece of the circle so she sent me a new piece. 
I recognized it for what it was.  Too many coincidences.  Too many, “OMGS! SAME!!!”
And I cried.  I didn’t just cry… I burst into tears at the dinner table. 

I didn’t want a new friend.  I wanted MY friend back. 
But that isn’t how it works, and that’s why I’m writing this post. 

The new friend asked where everything goes now.  Where do all of the things I would have told my person go, now that she’s gone?  I thought that was a really good question.  Right now it’s getting spewed onto Facebook.  It’s being spewed into writing that never gets posted.  It’s coming in the forms of random outbursts and crying jags.  But right now, this is the really bad part.  And while I know it, you might not.   I’m trying to help.
Expect this.
I tell people that it’s the first 6 months when you need to be the most patient with yourself.

This is new.  This is a huge adjustment. 
Your circle is broken. 
You’re not whole right now. 

Grief can be incredibly ugly. 

Where will it go though?  That’s really the question. 
I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if it ended up being her. 

I also wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if it was someone else. 

It’ll all find somewhere to go over time.  Maybe to one person, maybe to a few, but it will find somewhere to go.  This is a transition stage.  You’re finding your new normal. 
It doesn’t feel like it’ll ever find somewhere to go, but it will. 

But you see, people always want to bring up comparisons and mention ‘replacing’ someone. 
There. Is. No. Replacement. For. A. Person.
Ever. 
Allow me to repeat myself a little bit louder for the folks in the back. 
There. IS. NO. REPLACEMENT. FOR. A. PERSON.
EVER.

We don’t want to even THINK about replacing them.  So what do we do?  What is our natural tendency? 
We fight it. 

I do so love a good fight. 

That is how the wheel gets stuck. 

You’re not replacing them.  What you are doing is allowing yourself to feel whole again so that you can move forward.  You cannot get that missing piece of your circle back.  Even if you do, it won’t fit quite the same way. 
The universe has a way of providing things if you pay attention.  Mother Nature loves her cycles. 

If you fight it though, you remain incomplete and moving forward is nearly impossible. 

But if you stop fighting and appreciate the new person for who they are and for their role in your circle… it’s not that you stop missing the pieces you’ve lost along the way.  But your circle is complete again.  When the circle fills in the gap, the wheel starts moving again. 

This job is made a thousand times more difficult when you can’t pinpoint what’s missing or if you fight the inevitable.  We are social creatures.  You can claim to be as anti-social as you want since that’s such a hip thing to be these days, but it is a basic human biological need.  You NEED social.  You NEED people. 
We punish the worst offenders with solitude.  That alone should tell you something. 
That’s not saying you can’t be introverted and prefer your alone time but you are seriously delusional if you think that you still don’t NEED social interaction. 

Then again, maybe you’re delusional due to lack of social interaction.
But then, that shouldn’t apply to you because if you’re reading this, you’re on the internet… likely on social media as that’s where I share the links to it... and are therefore still a lot more social than you’d like to admit to yourself.

I think of it like homesickness.  When you move and you’re ‘homesick’ is because a lot of pieces of your circle have shifted at once and are missing or in different places.  It’s once the circle gets filled back in that the feeling of homesickness goes away and you progress in your new environment. 

But anyways, moving on. 

Sometimes it’s a new person that shows up, which is why I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to find out that it’s the new friend who could fill the missing gap at some point. 
Other times it’s someone in your outer circle that wiggles their way closer. 

Either way, try to recognize it and appreciate them for who they are.  They are not your missing piece. 
They are a new piece. 
When you feel things will never be the same, they won’t. 
If anyone tells you any different they are outright lying to you or absolutely clueless. 

What that means, to me, is that the path you’re walking now is a new one. 
The person who fills in the gap could very well be the person that gets you back on the path you’re meant to be on.  They could even add momentum and take you to places you never thought possible before. 

Your circle shifts pretty regularly. 

It has shifted before and will again. 
Maybe by learning the cycles, recognizing them when they happen even if they circumstances leading up to it were completely unforeseen, it will become a little bit easier for all of us. 
The circle will go through another cycle. 

The choice is ours, really.  Do we fight it?  Or do we appreciate it for what it is, each big and small piece that makes up the whole and learn to accept that sometimes the circle has to break so that we can move forward in a different way. 
Our circle begins from the moment we’re born until the day that we die. 

The circle will break and be repaired more times than we can count. 
But the cycle will continue.
The cycle of the circle.

The Cyclical Circle, if you will. 

Thanks for reading! Let me know if any of this resonated with you or provided you with any food for thought and have an amazing weekend! 

Dear Gigi: Part 2 ~~~ When Normal is Gone

Okay, so Christmas was yesterday.  It’s been busy, you know how that goes this time of year.  I’ve been having a really difficult time with losing you.  It’s hit me really hard this week and I feel like I’ve just been falling apart, a lot.  I haven’t posted a blog in about 2 weeks so I figured I better get back to that before I fall completely off track.  I tried keeping busy with holiday stuff but you know how hard the holidays have been since Rachel died and everything went to shit.  Marrying you on Christmas Eve was supposed to give me something good again on that day, on a day I missed so many… so much.  Now it’s just another sad.  You never even got to celebrate a single wedding anniversary with him.  Life is so cruel. 

                          

We were going to come up again this year.  Instead I was just trying to keep my shit together.  I failed, for the most part.  I did okay through some things, but others I just… I was okay one minute but then all it takes it just one thought and then the tears would start pouring out of my eyes.  I can’t count how many times I looked at the husband and said I was so sorry, I was trying. 

I made another gingerbread from scratch in that kick ass Yule log pan that you were so jealous of last year.  It was delicious.  I had some for lunch today.  It’s only Yule once a year, after all.  Might as well enjoy every day of it as much as possible. 

But then I sit there and think of stupid stuff like, about how many people commit suicide over the holidays.  How many families look at empty seats and hear other people tell them things like… just to think of the good times.  Or even not to think of them at all, just be happy today.  As though it’s that simple.  As though I could stop thinking of you even if I wanted to, which I don’t. 

As though I could stop thinking of any of you over there on that other side. 

I get so jealous that they think it’s that easy, I really do.  I wish I still did.  But I know it’s not.

I said that to the husband the other day too, about how I don’t have to wonder what I’d do in a lot of situations because I’ve already gotten those calls or dealt with those situations. 
I already know what I’d do, because I did it. 

And then I wonder how many more things I’m going to have to figure out how to get through.
I mean, I’m only 36.  I have a whole lot of living left to do. 
A whole lot more people to love, and to lose. 

A whole lot of memories to make, that someday I’ll cling onto like a lifeline. 

A whole lot of incredibly sad days. 
And a whole lot of good ones, hopefully. 

I remember being at the hospital with you, well, with your family.  I remember your son being surprised at how many people I’ve lost.  After all, we’re not very far apart in age; just about 5 years, I think. 

I remember saying to them about how you think losing someone is the hardest part. 
You think saying goodbye will be the most difficult moment. 

And it is unbelievably difficult, just not the most.

You think the funeral is going to be the most difficult, how can I get through this?! 

And it is incredibly difficult, just not the most.

It’s the day after the funeral.  That’s the worst. 
That’s the day when everyone else returns to their normal. 

When you first lose someone you get a ton of messages and phone calls and people checking in on you.
“Do you need anything?  Anything at all?  Is there anything I can do to help you?”
When people know someone who lost someone and they ask me what to do I always tell them never to offer your help if you don’t intend to give it.  That’s not help.  You have no idea how much help they need right now.  THEY don’t know how much help they need right now.  Go ahead and say it, offer, but MEAN IT.  Be there.  Be there if they need you to get dinner or be there if they need someone on the other end of the phone at 3am just to hear them cry so they don’t feel so alone.  But mean it and be there.    Show up, or don’t say it.  Just tell them you’re sorry for their loss and leave it at that. 

Because, you see, they all forget. 

They come to the funeral, they check on you when they hear, but then they forget. 
They go back to their normal lives and things resume on schedule.  Nothing has changed, only one day of plans changed. 

You can’t.
Your normal is gone. 

The husband thought it was morbid at first when I told him that I had a folder of all of my final wishes and whatnot in my email folders.  But then I walked him through those first few days.  He hasn’t gone through it before, not really, not through all the planning and all of the stages.  I envy him, too. 
You’re experiencing the worst pain of your life.  Someone is experiencing the worst pain of their life every time someone dies.  Sometimes more than one someone, but at least one someone. 
And they have to know what funeral home to call to pick up the body pretty much immediately. 
They have to call people to let them know. 
Hurry, you have to make sure the most important know before someone leaks it onto social media like an asshole. 

You have to go visit some, because the news needs to be given in person. 
You have to eat.  If you have kids, you still have to take care of them. 
You try to take care of yourself, but you just can’t think straight.  That’s where all the help comes in handy when people show up.  They help you and remind you to take care of you while you’re trying to do a thousand other things.  The phone rings, the notifications ping, the doorbell goes off….
But that next day you have to meet at the funeral home so you can make the arrangements.  You have to hurry up and decide on the obituary because it has to get into the paper asap before the deadline.  You didn’t get any sleep last night, so you’re a zombie. 
Your eyes are burning from crying and you feel numb.
What picture goes on the funeral cards?  What saying, poem, prayer, etc? 
What casket do you use?  Are you going to be buried in it?  Or just rent on for the viewing? 
What color? What material? What type of lining?  Where are they going to be buried. Do you know? 
Are they going to be cremated?  Are you still going to rent a casket for the funeral? Or are you just going to have a memorial service with some pictures?  By the way, we need a picture of them so we know how to do their makeup.  We’ll need that by tomorrow morning at the latest.  If you want pictures at the viewing we’ll need those before the viewing starts tomorrow.  Are you having a viewing?  Will it be one day or two?  Two times a day, or one?  A funeral in a church, or at the funeral home?  Graveside service? 
Is someone going to speak?  Are you going to give others the opportunity to speak?  Who is going to deliver the eulogy?  We’ll need an outfit for them by tomorrow as well, today if possible.  Make sure it’s long sleeved and no v-necks, plain colors tend to work better against all the flowers.  What kind of flowers do you want?  How many spreads?  We have a florist we work with that we highly recommend.  How do you want their hair done, how did they normally wear it?  Are you going to have a wake?  Where will it be?  Who will cater it or will it be potluck?  Who did we forget to call?  Oh my goodness, did someone remember to call great Aunt Betty to let her know?  What about that one branch of cousins in Canada?  Okay, we have to go find some clothes and go through pictures.  Is there time to eat somewhere?  The kids are getting antsy and they haven’t had their naps and they’re all really sad and confused and all the adults are so sad and busy.  I’m so tired.  I can’t think.  I can’t believe they’re gone.  What do I do?  There’s too much to do!  Make a list, you do well with your lists.  It’ll help. 
It helps.  But it doesn’t make it much better.  I’m so lost. 
Someone shows up with food, oh my goodness, thank you so much!  I was starving and didn’t even realize it.  I don’t think I’ve eaten since I got the phone call.  Or slept.  Or stopped crying. 
You do stop crying though, for bits of time.  You run out of tears.  You get dehydrated.  Get more water.  Don’t wipe every tear, you’ll rub your eyes raw. 
Did I fall asleep?  Oh no!  Clothes! I have to find something for ME to wear too!  And the kids!  I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to get it all done.  You’ll get the kids ready for me?  Thank you so much!  Okay, I’ll try to get a shower.  Phone rings, hours go by. 

Viewings and in between things and after things. 

But then the funeral is over. 

They all go back to their normal.  You got through it because of all the busy, but now things are eerily quiet. 

Your normal is gone.  And they forgot. 

They didn’t do it on purpose.  It’s just that they really did forget. 
Do you know how many people have checked in on me in the past few weeks, seeing how I was holding up through the holidays?  Other than my husband and kids, obviously, because they live with me. 
One. 
One person asked me how I was doing.  And it was yesterday.  And it was a new friend.

Now I feel like I’ve lost so many people that they figure I’m okay and I’ll get through it.  That I know what to do.  But I don’t.  I still don’t.  I mean I do, and I don’t.  I still sit here on Tuesday afternoons and get sad that I have no text from you double checking the Skype date time or letting me know you’re running late or have to cancel because you’re just too sick today. 

It doesn’t come anymore.
It never will. 

It kills me. 

Now, you know me, I’ve talked to plenty of people since you died.  It’s just not the same. 
They forgot. 

Once again, my normal is gone. 
Or did they forget?  Or did they just, like I said, figure I’ll get through it because I’ve been here before. 
I don’t know.  I like to think it’s just forgetting. 
I do sometimes think that the minute you died, I was unfollowed by half of my friends list who didn’t want to go through watching me lose another person.  They didn’t want to deal with the sad. 
I can’t blame them.
I don’t want to deal with it either. 
Yet here I am. 

Because life is cruel. 

They went back to normal and now I have to find another new normal. 
I will. 
We both know that. 

We have before and will again.
But this fucking sucks. 

I think it’s necessary too though, don’t get me wrong. 

I think the influx of help is necessary to get through those initial days.  It really is. 
I’ve experienced loss with and without it and it makes a huge difference.

I also think the crash after the funeral helps. 

The shock is wearing off and it’s starting to feel real.  You realize now that your normal is gone. 
What the fuck do I do now?! 

You go through the motions… that’s what you do. 
Sometimes it’s one day at a time, sometimes on minute… sometimes one breath. 

But you do it. 

You find what you would die for, and you live for it.  (Credited to: Unknown)

You need it to sink in.  You need the crash to make it feel real.  Because it doesn’t feel real at first, not really.  You know it happened, but it takes awhile to really realize that it’s real. 

You need to figure out what to do and while you need support to do it, you also need to learn to do it yourself.  The reason you’re going through this is because you lost someone, you don’t want to keep relying on someone only to lose them and have to figure it out all over again, but without that help.
Like me.  Right now. 
Because you were that person. 

Not that I don’t have a support system, I do.  It’s an incredible one.  You know that. 

But they’re all so far away. 

I wish more people here, nearby, cared enough to show up. 

But that’s a whole other bitchfest so don’t get me started.  ;) 

Normal is gone again.  I’m trying to find a new one.  It’s been almost 2 months since losing you. 

That sounds unreal. 

The husband has been helping a lot and so have the kids.  It’s just something that I myself have to work through.  I have to keep going through the motions until they find their new pattern of ‘normal’ again. 

I don’t want to.
There isn’t much I wouldn’t give up to have you back. 

But I can’t.
So I have to. 

Just like everyone else in your circle of normal.  Everyone in your circle of normal has now had their cycle of normal disrupted.  And right before the holidays, you bitch. 

I spent Samhain with you. 
We got through Thanksgiving.
We got through Yule.
We got through Mercury in Retrograde.
We got through Christmas. 
Next is New Years.  And that’ll suck. 
I always did a new years reading for you.  A good way to start the year, with help, you’d said. 

It’ll be the first year without you.  2018. 
You’d have liked my cover photo.  “@2018, the bar is literally so low”

2018: Year one. 
Again. 

I’m going to keep trying for better and I’m going to carry you through it all with me, here in my heart where you will never ever leave. 

All of us will. 

On to the new normal. 

Until next week, AM.

Love always,
AD

Dear Gigi: Part 1 ~~~ Wave on Wave

Dear Gigi,

I decided that instead of our weekly Skype dates I would just make a new section to my blog entitled, “Dear Gigi” and write you on Tuesdays.  That way you still can remain a part of my weekly routine and I can still feel like I’m catching you up on things. 
The first one might be kind of sad…

First off, you know how much I hate how many references to water there are in quotes about getting through things so the title of the post is to tie that in.  The quickest way to find out how many references there are to it is to have it take someone you love.  Rachel had taken her own life drowning in her bathtub.  The worst thing I heard afterwards was to ‘drown my sorrows’ and then people saying to just ‘stay above water’ and that’s not even including all of the suicide references.  I just adore when people say, “I’ve had the worst day, I should just kill myself” because they had a bad day at work or got stuck in traffic.  I get it.  I’m sure I did it at some point.  But those phrases all sound different now.  They all hurt. 
I could say I’m just ‘triggered’ or whatever, and I am, but I don’t flip out on people for saying it.  At least not most of the time.  I will get a little pissy if they know those things. 
Oh, you’ve had a bad day?  Take a nice long bath… it’ll relax you. 
It took me a year to get in the shower after I lost Rachel without having a panic attack.  I will never sit in a bathtub again as long as I live.  And now that image is in my head, the image of her bathtub filled with the water that killed her.  Or of her bathroom covered in blood.  I’d spent hours scrubbing the bathroom, the hallway, her bedroom, through the middle of the night because I was terrified that one of her kids would wake up and have to pee and see it. 
The bathtub is always either covered in her blood, or filled with the water that killed her. 
But I get it, it’s calming for you so you suggest it. 

But anyways, I digress.  So anyways, wave on wave.  Another wave crashed over me last night, hitting me full force.  It took my breath away.  I had had a few moments throughout the day of just suddenly tearing up and crying for a few minutes, but then I’d moved on with my day.  I haven’t been feeling very well.  The tiny human brought home the plague from school apparently. 
Kids, ugh.  Amirite?!
I made it through the whole day with just little bursts of sad.  I had been doing okay for nearly a week; not quite a week, but over half of it.  I started to feel more sick before bedtime and told the husband that I was done watching TV because I needed to go to bed and I needed a bowl next to it.  Fun. 

And I laid down. 
I was fine.  I was sick, but I wasn’t sad at that moment. 

And then I was walking into your hospital room.  I had known it was bad, I did, or I wouldn’t have just up and left for Detroit.  Dave was out of vacation time and he’d had to take off to be home with Arya.  I knew it was bad, but I didn’t know it was the end.  I’d been singing in the car. 
You think trying to find something on the radio is difficult… try doing it in a different state.  And I’d lost all hometown stations around the time I crossed the Ohio border.  But I’d been singing.  I’d been worried, very worried, but I’d been singing. 
I had taken a picture of Ohio for Dave as a joke.  Because it showed nothing but a straight highway with just land and random trees on the sides.  That really is what driving through most of Ohio looks like.  I’ve gone through Columbus through to Cincinatti before, I’ve driven up through Cleveland and Toledo, I’ve driven to near Akron, and it all looks like that. 
I took a picture of a sign after Toledo as you’re heading towards Michigan of exit 420 Stony Ridge and I’d laughed about it and sent it to Dave. 
I took a picture of this really cool bridge near Toledo.  I love that bridge.  We have tons here, but not like that one.  UK Rachel had sent me a picture of a bridge not far from them like that. 

But it was a road trip.  A worried one, but I really thought the entire way up there that you’d be okay.  Not today, but soon.  That you’d recover.  You’d already recovered from so much. 
I wanted to see your face when they took you off of life support and you saw me standing there.  You’d bitch at me for driving all the way up there over nothing and for seeing you without your eyebrows on. 

But there I was, walking into your hospital room in the ICU.
I had gone to the wrong hospital first. 
I was flustered. 
It was freezing. 
I was wearing pajamas.    

This wasn’t a planned trip, after all.
I saw your husband first, he was sitting down in the chair.  Your son was standing near your bed. 
Your daughter had just left so that I could come in since there was a 3 person in the room rule. 

And there you were with all those fucking tubes. 
I felt sick. 

I was smiling, sort of, I remember that.  Because that’s what you do when you see people you love that you haven’t seen in some time.  Even when it’s not a situation for smiling, you just sort of do it anyways. 

I see your husband get up and walk over to hug me. 
Then your son walks over to hug me. 
They thank me for coming or some shit.  I really don’t remember.  I ask how you are…
They’re saying these words to me, but I’m just not understanding yet. 

And then it hit me.

“Wait, what?”

Their words were coming through but I felt like I was just standing there with an awkward smile on my face trying to process what they were saying. 
I kept looking over at you, wanting to touch you, but the tubes… they were everywhere. 
I said hello, “Hi, Mom!  Look! I came all the way from Pittsburgh to see you!  Open your eyes and say hello!”

But you didn’t. 

“Wait, what?”

They were still talking…

“Wait, you mean… she’s not going to wake up?” 

Your husband tells me he had ulterior motives for asking me to drive on up to be there… for your last rites.  To give you your last rites.  What the fuck kind of shit is that. 
You are not supposed to be dying. 

You were NOT supposed to be dying. 

All those medical terms flying around, I understand them and it makes me hate them that much more.

My last message to Dave had been something like, “I better not be here to say goodbye,” because I briefly remember registering it as being sort of ironic or something because I sent him a message saying, “I’m here to say goodbye.”
Partially so that he knew I was there, but also so he knew I wouldn’t be okay when I got home.

Seriously, Gigi.  What the fuck kind of shit was that? 
You got admitted on the DAY that Rachel died?  I sat there holding your hand, talking to you, seeing that stupid bracelet on your arm with the day she died as the day you were admitted. 

I look at that stupid final text from you asking me to be your spiritual counsel if you ended up in a coma or something. 

I think, ‘she knew,” but it doesn’t matter. 
Because you’re gone. 

The doctors would come in or out.

We would go in or not.

They stopped enforcing that 3 person rule after that first visit.
They told the hospital I was your sister so that I could be in there.

Because I was. 

I was your sister, I was your daughter, I was your best friend.
You were my person. 

“The part that makes her… her… is gone”
“Her body cannot heal.”
“The EEG confirmed….”
“They tried again, but…”

“I came to say goodbye.”

I did not want to say goodbye.
I wasn’t ready. 

None of us were ready. 

I told you to go ahead.  I told you to go hug your mom.
Lo, there she sees her mother…

Then, later, when I felt you leaving I panicked.
“I LIED!”
I didn’t, really, but it sort of feels that way.
I was telling you it was okay, but it felt anything but.
I just knew that was what you needed to hear, to help you go. 

But it’s not okay. 
I’m not okay.
We’re not okay.
You’re okay now, but we’re not. 

I kept asking you to please open your eyes, but I knew you couldn’t. 

I could see you had one foot in each world.

The body does horribly weird things on life support….

Things that made us want to hope, but they were just reflexes and on some level we knew that but didn’t care. 

I tried to help. 

I took them out to dinner that night when we got kicked out of the room.  I knew you’d want them to eat, so I made sure they ate. 

We went to Steak ‘N Shake or something.

I had never been before, it was pretty decent even if we weren’t very hungry.
We were all probably hungrier than we realized though because we mostly finished our plates.

I got to drive on 8 mile again.  I rapped another Eminem song for you, of course. 

We all stayed up on Samhain Eve to wish you a Happy Halloween as it turned midnight.

I didn’t realize until much later that I gave you your last rites shortly after midnight on Halloween. 
How fitting. 
Did you like that?  Because I think you would have loved that. 

I gave you those last rites while your husband had gone to grab me a pop from the store.  We were all dehydrating ourselves crying. 

Then we sat there by your bed, holding your hand, one of us on each side, through the night. 
We went and tried to sleep in the waiting room at different points, but neither of us slept more than an hour or two. 

Everyone kept checking in on you, privately messaging me.  Numerous group chats were going on.  You’d have loved knowing how much everyone cared.  I read you every message. 

I sat there and read you every single message that I could.  I hope I didn’t miss any. 

I said everything I could possibly think of to say. 
But it’ll never be enough.  Sort of the reason for this blog, after all.

I hope it was good enough.
I hope I did okay.
I am your rockstar, after all. 

My hips had been out.  I had stopped registering it.  My body was letting me get through this.  The 6 hour car ride was sort of torture on them, but they waited til I got home to really give me shit.
The 24 hours in a hospital chair in between the car rides didn’t help, I’m sure.  But oh well. 

Some nurse gave me some props as I was saying my goodbye to you.  Did you hear her?  That was pretty cool. 

But you in that bed with all those tubes, that was not cool at all. 
That is something I will see for the rest of my life. 

I will see the faces of your family, so heartbroken, forever.
I will hear the sounds those machines made, forever.

But I wasn’t there anymore.  That was over a month ago now. 

I thought I had been handling things sort of okay.  I’ve been staying busy.  Lots of projects. 

I was in my bed, in Pittsburgh.  Not a hospital room in Detroit. 

You were already gone.  And it crashed into me.  WHAM!

And the tears poured out. 

I had been fine. 
I hadn’t been feeling well from this plague, but I had been fine. 
And then I wasn’t. 

Because you’re not here. 

I know it takes the brain time to process things and I’ve tried more than once to just relax for a bit to let things hit me.  I should have known better than to try to force that though.  It was gonna hit when it hit.  And it hit this week. 

It really hit.  It hit like that first week all over again. 
I pictured your husband opening up ornaments to put on the tree and seeing the one I made for the two of you and it made me cry harder.  You never got to put it back up on your tree to see it again. 
It was just last year on Christmas Eve that I was marrying you. 

And then I was in the car on the drive home, screaming at the top of my lungs. 
Destroyed. 
Please, please don’t leave me. 
Please don’t leave me. 
I can’t do this without you.
I can’t do this again.
I need you. 
Please, don’t leave me.

Please. 

I hear Daylight on the radio on the way home.  Maroon 5.
The words sound completely different now.
Listen to it and you’ll see…
Another wave of sobbing and screaming.

The pain hits my chest all over again. 
It really physically hurts.  It’s amazing that you can live through pain that big.  Let alone this many times. 
I don’t get it. 
I don’t get how I’m still standing here. 

I really don’t.

I’m missing you so much.  And it’s the fucking holidays. 
I had a breakdown halfway through putting up the tree.  It was something me and Rachel always did together.  We loved it. 
LOVED it. 

And every year I cry.  Every year it hurts all over again. 
I still put on the same carols, but she isn’t there to belt out her parts. 
And as soon as one of those parts hits, I’m reminded.  I miss her voice. 
I kept on singing this year because 2.0 was enjoying it, but the breakdown still happened. 
We don’t get invited anywhere for holidays anymore.  It’s just us here, alone. 
We stopped getting invited to family functions after my Pap died.  But really it had all fallen apart before that with Rachel dying and then all that bullshit with my mom.  You know all about that though so I don’t need to go into detail. 
But like, really, did you have to pick such a shitty yet poetically perfect time of year to die? 

Remember how much fun that was last year? 
You crying to me on Skype about how upset you were that nothing felt like it was coming together right for the wedding…. That the only guy you found willing to marry you guys on Christmas Eve was some dude who kept saying GOD in all caps and you just didn’t like that at all. 
Your face when I had said, “That’s such a shame… Such a shame you don’t know someone who is ordained… especially not someone that has a really hard time on Christmas Eve and would LOVE to have a reason to look forward to it, or someone who enjoyed road trips and would love nothing more than to drive to Detroit and back on Christmas Eve to marry you.  Or someone who has a musician husband and daughters that can be a flower girl and the other to take some pictures… what a fucking shame! 
And your face, man. 
It lit up.  And then teared up. 
“You would do that for me?!  Why would you do that for me!!! Oh my gods, are you SERIOUS?!”
And I just nodded, smiling.  “Of course I would.  What are friends for?”
And you threw your arms up in the air and shouted, “I have to go! You just single handedly made everything else fall into place!!!!  I have to call my husband RIGHT NOW! I’ll call you back!” and you ended the skype call. 
I’ll remember it forever.  That was the best Christmas Eve since Rachel died. 
I’m so so so so so glad we had that day. 

But, damn. 

This week I just keep getting thrown back into your hospital room. 
I keep seeing them telling me what was going on, how bad it really was, in this fog. 
Over, and over, and over. 

Losing you over, and over, and over. 

“Lady Dragonfli’s spirit has flown.”

Over, and over, and over. 

I miss you so much. 

I really just miss you so much. 

I’ll talk to you next Tuesday. 
I just realized this a few weeks ago and I really wanted to tell you.
I can’t believe that we had our regular Skype dates on Tuesdays at 1pm and never ever said, “See you next Tuesday” laughing about C U Next Tuesday. 
What a missed opportunity that was!  FOR YEARS!!!

I love you, AM

AD