Ugh. It’s been a tough day. It remains that way. Every, damn year. I mistakenly used to think each year the day might get easier, but I’ve come to accept that it can’t.
His loss will always bear an immense amount of weight. Instead, I just prepare for that fact and let the tears flow and my heart twist itself into knots until the storm passes.
The only things I tell myself now are, “it’s okay to grieve”, “it’s okay to be angry”, “it’s okay to be strong”, “it’s okay not to be”.
I am gentler on myself, I stay inside, I reflect, and I cry. He has made me a better person, for that I am grateful, but I’d still give it up to have him alive, safe from harm, and happy.
I imagine he’s happy where he is, free from suffering. I imagine him talking to me some times (even though he died before he could utter his first words). He reminds me to be patient, to be more kind, to be more loving.
I say he made me a person because I oblige and I do these things to honor him.
Rest In Peace, Jack. You are loved.
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