In the two months since I last posted, I have lost two more people close to me. One of my greatest friends lost his dad, hitting me hard and fast, like having the wind knocked out of you. And not two weeks later, my surrogate little brother is gone.
Every day, I try to find the silver lining. Yes, sometimes my job is boring, and I don’t exactly feel like I’m contributing to society. But I find joy in the people I work with. I find happiness in my animals. I find comfort in a friend’s hug. I know love in my husband-to-be. Yet some days, like today, or tonight rather, the sadness is overwhelming.
The melancholy sweeps in fiercely with body-rocking sobs, chest heaving with every inhale, tears steadily squeezing through the narrows of my eyes. Wails echo through the room, and I’m startled when I realize the sound is emitting from the depths of my soul. I feel hollow, like my broken heart will never fully mend. The same questions sprinting through my mind as though this time they will be answered. And what if they were? Would that take away my sadness? Would that cease the demons that torment my dreams?
As the grief finally subsides and the tears ebb, I’m left with a splitting headache and memories of happier times. Water fights and rafting; tag and listening to music; hugs and kisses; first crushes and secrets. God, I miss you. I still can’t quite grasp that I won’t see you again. That I won’t dance with you at my wedding. That I won’t be cheering you on in the Olympics (you know you were good as gold). That you won’t play hide and seek with my children. There are a million things I would have said to you if I’d known it would have been my last chance. But we did say the most important words. I love you. And you know it.