This day today

– 3:38 pm

Lyn is calling me… I know the conversation she wants (and has) to have but I can’t handle it now so I won’t answer. I’ll message her later.

Two years ago, your grandmother passed away. I thought it’d been twelve months, at most. Thinking about it, in retrospect, that’s clearly impossible with everything that has happened in between. But somehow it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long. Where the time went I have no idea. It sure waits for no one. Nevertheless, nothing’s changed. I know the pain and handle it a lot better. What I still feel is her absence, in full effect.

These text messages I’m getting are triggering me, so I’m ignoring them for the time being. The only way I can hold it together is not to engage. Liza asked how I was doing and I said I couldn’t talk about it. I have to manage today in my own way, in a way that is a preservation of self.

Smiles and laughter

One thing I know for sure though is my mother loved celebrating life. Whenever she could, she would.

This is a picture of you I took earlier today. Smiles and laughter to us were a celebration of life.

Every time I reminisced about happier times, I had my teeth on display and belly cramps, nearly choking at something funny. This photo is that. Your grandmother was the same. She’d laugh herself to tears.


When you lose the person most dear to you, you become numb and immune to a lot of things. Very little can kill you. Since she passed, I’ve become very comfortable with death. I don’t fear it, or anyone for that matter. My love for you is now the only thing that could possibly kill me. Nothing else really matters to that degree. I hope I can show you enough of it to help you succeed in life.

PS – You should know what I feel for you is weightless compared to that of your mother. It’s incomparable. I couldn’t save her if something ever happened to you. She couldn’t save herself.