Two Months

Today marks two months since David's death.

In a sense, only two months while also two entire months. Do you understand what I mean?

Nothing in my life is the same anymore.

David changed my life through his presence, and now he is changing it through his absence.

David opened my eyes to a realm of new questions about life and death. He has taught me something each day.

Often times I learn from myself. When you think long enough, you begin see things in new ways and gain a deeper understanding. Eventually, you begin to teach yourself. In this counter-intuitive way, David is teaching me through my own thoughts and ideas.

David has always been my role model. Now he is an example in a different way.

He has made me more empathetic, understanding, loving, and also impatient.

I get very impatient with the trivial details of life. Impatient with the meaningless complaints voiced on social media or by people on the bus. I get impatient with myself when I am the one voicing these complaints.

It's amazing how after feeling real pain, I can still complain that my feet are cold. I feel so different and I am so different, but yet I am still human. Somehow, I am still alive. While my thoughts are wondering and contemplating, my person is here living: doing the best that I can do.

There are moments throughout the day when everything feels normal. I feel at peace mentally and occupied with other things: tasks, responsibilities, and ideas. These moments come and go, and are violently awakened with the memory of David. The memory of my new reality.

The abrasive memory of my loss causes a physical reaction. My feet stop walking, my head quickly shakes left to right, and my heart feels the now familiar stabbing pain.

Over and over I think, "this is not what David would have wanted." He would not have wanted to cause this pain. This is simply not David.

It is important to draw the distinction between David and the disease. David vs. Depression.

David is who I want to remember. David is who is with me now. He is in my mind through memory and he is in my heart through love.

I read this quotation today:

“We all want to do something to mitigate the pain of loss or to turn grief into something positive, to find a silver lining in the clouds. But I believe there is real value in just standing there, being still, being sad.” --John Green

I think that this is a good reminder today. Take time to remember and to celebrate. Become better people: more educated, more understanding, and more contemplative. Also, remember to sometimes just be sad. Be still. Sit with your grief and feel its pain. Allow it to push you. Allow it to heal you.

I am thankful today is over but I am thankful that it happened, too. Everyday is a gift and one day closer to being reunited with my brother David.

Sending love to him, and all who loved him, tonight.