You're In It

These past two weeks have been especially hard for some reason. The random breakdowns have been more frequent and thoughts of you consume every part of my life in ways they never had before.

It seems that when your grieving the loss of someone so truly amazing, everyday life becomes full of reminders -  landmines of memories and sharp pangs for the things that will never be – that implode my barely surviving heart. It’s the little things I never thought would bother me until they hit me so hard that I feel like I can’t breathe…but then somehow, I do. When you died, an out-of-order, unexpected, and completely unfair death, I didn’t just lose you in the present. I lost the entire future I should have had with you – and now it feels like everything in my life is just a sad reminder of you…

We drove home last weekend to visit dad and Izzy girl. I felt OK the entire drive home until we hit the Capitol Drive exit and I lost it. We passed the Target you and I used to get lost in, the boutique you took me to – so excited to pick out my wedding dress. Jake’s, where we used to get an order of onion straws and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. And then pulling into the driveway and walking into the house that just screams TERRI from every nook and cranny – you are everywhere.

Eric Church had his concert this weekend… that’s actually why we made the trip home. It feels like just yesterday we bought those tickets – you were so damn excited. The last time I had seen Eric was with you at the old Bradley Center… just weeks after your epilepsy diagnosis. I was so hopeful that this time would be different – a cancer free mom, a new arena, all my favorite people and of course, our favorite artist. But you weren’t there. After some guilt-tripping I was able to convince dad to use your ticket – it only felt right that he was there with us and to be honest, it would have killed me to stare at your empty seat all night long. He put on a great show, and we sang along as loud as we could and missed you every second. I would be lying if I said I didn’t cry when he covered Let It Be… he must have known that you were listening.

Like I said… these past few weeks have just been flooded with thoughts and memories of you.

Did you know that a year ago today we were in Grand Cayman, having the best time of our cancer free lives? The pictures have been flooding my social media “memories” and I just can’t help but think of how full of life you were – how happy you were to just be spending a week in paradise with me. I would give anything in the world to have another week like that. To see you floating in the Caribbean Sea with a drink in your hand and a smile on your face. You never think the last time is going to be the last time. And then it is.

I think that is what I struggle with the most. I feel like there was no closure. You were here, in those moments, in those last few days. They were just regular days and you were still you. And then, you were just gone. I feel like you tricked me – even when I knew you were dying – you were so positive and so strong, I thought I had so much more time. Like I wasted my last few days with you, talking about nonsense when I should have been asking you how I was supposed to survive when you were gone.

Some days when I think about that day I feel like I can’t breathe. When I go home, and stand in the room where you died and I think of the horribleness of that day, it knocks the wind right out of me. There are no solutions to fixing a broken heart as shattered as mine is. This is my new normal, and it sucks. 

I find myself telling the story of this loss over and over – like if I keep talking about you, I might find some kind of magic Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole that will change this outcome. I don’t want to talk about you dying, but it feels like it’s the only way to keep people talking about you. Have they forgotten already? It’s been a lifetime and a second since you left, and I am just not ready to let go.

How am I supposed to move on with my life when it’s now that I need you the most? Being human really, really fu**king hurts.

I was on the treadmill last night, forcing myself through a workout that I didn’t have the energy or the right mindset for. I was so upset while trying to run a damn mile that I couldn’t get my heart rate under control and I felt like I was going to puke the entire time. I normally watch Netflix while I run… but dad changed the account to just one user because well, you’re gone, so now I am locked out. So instead, I found myself listening to a playlist I would have never been listening to, and a song by an artist I am normally not a fan of came on and, for some weird reason, it calmed me down. While songs like this used to make me think of my past life and love I’ve lost, last night… it just made me think if you. And I smiled. It’s OK that you’re everywhere in my life, because no matter how much it hurts, it means you’re still in it.

“Baby I know you gotta go, if it’s a whim or a plan
either way I hope, there’s a beach in it.
I hope your Friday nights are barefoot in the sand, and there’s music and lights
and your left hand has a beer in it.
Yeah I hope the coast is clear in it –
Oh I love you and I’ll leave it at that…
Yeah I know that you’re not comin’ back.”