She would’ve been 32 today, and I’d still give everything to know what the past 13 years looked like on her. 💙 Life isn’t easy without her, and if anything – it only gets harder. You put makeup on, to cry it off.
They don’t tell you that though…that time is incapable of healing certain wounds.
That there will be days – the happiest of days – where you can’t seem to catch your breath, because she isn’t there, no matter how hard you look. She’s still gone.
I had the hardest time after we were engaged.
People who know grief – know this: there’s something to be said for the enormously happy moments in life that have a sliver of heartbreak within them because you’re missing someone. Those usually come late at night, when the rest of the world sleeps.
It’s the sun shining through rain, the ability to laugh through tears, and being able to find the silver lining on the darkest of days – all wrapped into one. You’re happy and sad, all at the same time. And how does THAT make any goddamned sense?
But it does – of course it does. Because, life.
One of the first questions I asked my best friend after I called to tell him that she was gone was, “How do I get married without her here?” I wasn’t even 21 yet, wasn’t even dating anyone – let alone anyone I’d consider marrying — and, yet…it was one of the first things I couldn’t stop thinking about.
And now, a little over thirteen years later – I’m about to find out.
And, I’d by lying if I didn’t tell you that it isn’t a completely gut wrenching and terrifying sort of thing. That the sheer weight of 13 years…of one of the very first thoughts I remember having after losing her…being right in front of me, in this one moment…that makes me so insanely happy…doesn’t sit on my chest a little, and keep me up at night.
But, if the past 13 years has shown me anything…it is this:
I imagine we’ll do that day, as we’ve done the 5,094 others before it. The way she would’ve wanted every single one of them done, the way she’s orchestrated so much of life since April 10th…with happiness, and gratitude, and a ridiculous amount of laughter. Together. We’ll have each other, even if we don’t physically have her.
And we’ll know as butterflies float by, that she is there.
It isn’t to say that these happy days don’t have their tears. It is to say, that we make the best of them…and turn them into the kind of tears she’d be okay with.
If you think we’re good at this life thing…you should know, we learned it from her.
On Days That End in Y…she is who I catch a glimpse of in the mirror as I walk by at just the right angle. She is the voice I hear whispering from deep within, that sometimes even sounds like me. She is who pushes me forward and cheers me on – to live out loud, to always keep going, to never stop being happy. When I hear my heart beat…I know it’s her.
Happy 32nd, Kellie. 💙🎈