#greiving

Tw: discussion of death. 

Having to tell someone or something that I love that they are going to die is not the hardest part of what I must do. I hate to feel them leave, the emptiness in those moments as they are laid to rest… and then it is gone. I hate that it is gone. I hate that I cannot feel it. The emptiness. The loss. As soon as they are gone, it is as well. It is their dying that hurts, not their death. So I give them their death song when no one is around to say “I’m sorry for your loss” as though it is the loss that hurts. I tell them about their choice if I did not get a chance to when they were alive. I give my thanks for all they have done. I sing their death song and restart every time I am interrupted, I sing until I reach the end and then I say “thank you” another time before leaving to get on with my day because this is what has become normal to me. The telling, the dying, the death, the choice, and their song. 

Today marks six full months. Half a year since February 7th, the day my world shifted and you had to go.

It feels impossible that six months have passed, yet at the same time, every single day without you has felt long and quiet. Things haven’t been the same since you left, Kano. I still look for you in the habits of my day, and there are so many moments where I instinctively turn to find you, only to remember the heavy truth all over again.

Getting your memory tattooed on my skin was my way of keeping you as close to me as humanly possible. But even with that constant reminder, I miss your real presence—your warmth, your quiet comfort, and the way you made everywhere we were feel like home.

Every month on the 7th, I stop to write to you, to speak your name, and to make sure you know that you are loved just as fiercely now as you were when you were laying right beside me. You were my sweet boy, my anchor through so much life, and that bond didn't break when you crossed the bridge.

I hope you are resting in endless warmth today, completely free and at peace. I carry you with me in every step, through every change, and in every quiet moment.

I miss you so much. Always.

Mother....

I'm not doing ok. Well... im doing better today than when I made this page. I've been even more at a loss than before you left us, but today, it's ok. I'm here, still. I'm trying not to give up, give in, lose the battle intentionally. It's just hard.

I'm starting to realize that things were harder for you too than you let on. Things you didn't want me to know, I've had to guess at. I wish you would have shared more. Although, who I was at the time, who I am, I don't know how I would have taken it.

Now I am alone, mostly. Father is trying to be there but I don't know how long he's going to feel generous and not kick me to the curb again. I have to protect myself from him. I have to remember. I can't get my hopes too high or he'll crush my heart again. Family.... is it supposed to be like this? Being apprehensive? My family is gone. Your gone, Travis is gone with his family, I don't know what to do.

I did come up with a dream though. I want a house in japan where I can grow a cherry tree and spread some of your ashes there. I feel like it would be kinda mystical. I know I'm probably still on my whole "life is a movie" thing, when it's clearly not. Clearly, unfortunately....