I wanted to end/start the year by writing something that I didn’t even know I had in me. Something about the great lessons of the year just past and my bright hopes for the future. But my eyes went dark and my flashlight is out of batteries. To be honest, 2017 wore out every fiber of my being. It was a transformative time for me with more black than white. I became a different being at the end of it than when it started (get a load of this train wreck).
It wasn't all bad, I had memorable moments. However, no matter how much progress I made I am hit with an unexpected hurricane mentally blowing me back to where I started. And now, we are entering the second year.. with no crystal ball on what's to come.
I'm writing from a coffee shop sitting in the corner. The smell of freshly roasted coffee in the air with Ella Fitzgerald playing in the background. Red brick walls and wide windows separating us from the outside world of traffic and sirens. It's a small coffee shop and there are only a few seats available, some are packed side by side, knee to knee. Everyone trying not to pay too much attention to each other staring down at their textbooks and devices. But it got me curious about comprehending this collective energy of why everyone is here. What's their backstory?
The barista behind the counter just called my name (still a tea drinker).
Truth is, I miss writing and I want to get back into it. But I don't know what to type most of the time anymore. The latter is much different from the initial grief. But I still feel it like it was yesterday, the rollercoaster of emotions, trusting the journey, and the lack thereof. Our memories come in waves, and often I am drowning. Some nights I wake up in the middle of the night while struggle to fall asleep in the first place.
I hope you don’t mind me sharing what's stored in my treasure chest. But before I show you what's inside, today I came to a realization that I don't miss her so much as before. Perhaps our absences have tallied up and we both got expelled. Where we might be different versions than when we fell in love. From what I remember, the great thing about life with her was that we were a team. We didn't let each other fall too far, never too crazy nor sad without the other being there with their hand out always ready. All in all, it was good to know you always had someone on your side, someone that knew and accepted you as completely as they could and still loved you.
She was so beautiful inside and out. And so intelligent, generous, sweet. So emotional (that was probably my favorite). Maybe I haven’t grieved this version of her yet. Or maybe this is just a part of the healing, do you know?
Shoot, it's 12, my meter is almost up. I better ask the barista for change to add more time.