Every day...thinking of him.
It's under the surface, always there.
I move through everyday life. I'm traveling, taking classes, and generally acting like a "normal" person.
I look like I always have. (with shorter hair)
But I'm not the same.
I used to talk about living my life out loud. I have always loved social media for the way that it allows me to share the deepest and shallowest parts of who I am in a way that is so very true to who and what I am and want to be.
Throughout the last two years, I have continued to live life out loud. We have blogged and shared our story so that we could continue to be true to that ideal. Who we are is who we are.
It's been over six months.
I know and you know and everyone knows that six months is so very short.
We're not "over it." (We'll never be "over it.")
We haven't "moved on."
We haven't even really moved forward.
But we're not standing still either.
I miss him with every fiber of my being.
I think about him all the time.
Nearly everything reminds me of him.
How can it not?
But I don't always say it, or write it, or point it out....
Am I still living my life out loud?
It's not like I shared everything online. People used to tease me that I never left anything out...but of course, I did. Even though it might have seemed like I was setting it all out there, much still went unsaid, even throughout Sammy's illness and death.
But now? Now I struggle a little bit more with living my life out loud.
Now I wonder....do people really want to continue to hear about what is really inside my heart?
Even in person, I can feel the air change when I say his name, when I tell a story about him.
Do I still want to remind you of his face, his laugh, his existence?
Yes. I do.
It's all I have...
I'm not asking for permission, by the way, or validation, or even approval. It's not that I don't care what you think as you read this, but I just want you to know that I'm not writing this because I need to know. I'm just trying to figure out who I am now....
|Feather on my walk to class in NYC|
The St Baldrick's Foundation is part of a campaign to sound off to Congress during Childhood Cancer Action Days on Capitol Hill, and one of their posts this week reminded readers that the average number of years lost when a child dies of cancer is 71. SEVENTY ONE years. I'd like to believe that Sam would have lived even longer than 79 years, wouldn't you? I can't even begin to contemplate all the milestones and holidays and memories that won't happen in those 79+ years. It feels so overwhelming.
That's a lot of years.
|In honor of Sammy's disdain for popsicles, I ate one on a hot day.|
|A year ago at the zoo|