It has been thirty-six days. I've found myself saying things like "we are excited about ____" or "we will be there". Lots of we's still. Do I say that Jordan died thirty-six days ago? Do I say that she passed away? I stumble over my words often. The syntax of death is a bitch.
There is this duality of life right now.
I am desperately clinging to moments. Moments rooted in joy. Seeing my children smile around a campfire with smores all over their faces or tasting a freshly baked cookie. Moments rooted in simplicity. The feeling of the breeze on my face or the feeling of the earth beneath my bare feet. Moments rooted in the present. Zeroing in on the feeling and sound of a tattoo gun as it works its magic. Choosing to experience instead of trying to capture moments. Sure I'll forget them without a photo. But I need that rooting of the present more than anything else right now.
I need that rooting because sadness is real. Guilt is real. Anger is real. Loneliness is so real. These are just the ones that have names. There are others. They can be subtle. Sliding into my day through someone's comments or a note I come across that Jordan wrote. They come uninvited by kicking in the door (I don't even lock my doors). They can be experienced in a brief moment or they can absolutely cripple me. But always when I'm driving. My God why is driving so sad? I feel sorry for anyone that notices me driving right now.
And the silence! Oh, the silence. The one thing that used to comfort me, allow me to think and bring a calm to my life. I absolutely cannot make sense of it. It is so welcome and so hated. The silence is deafening. The silence brings me back to the reality that I'm a mess and that this is all just starting. But the silence is the true place where healing will begin. For now, all I want to do is fill the silence with cussing and screaming.
I'm trying my best to just acknowledge all these feelings. I'm trying not to assign them these subtle meanings of "good" or "bad" (It seems semantics is a bitch too). There is just no neat box with a ribbon on it for the things I'm feeling. I can't stuff them in the boxes I already have. They don't fit and I don't need another fight I'm not going to win.
So here is to feeling all the feels. Acknowledging the pain. Allowing happy in. Embracing what is given in each moment.
I invite you all along for this ugly and honest journey (no promise on the frequency of updates).
-Brack
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| Snoring and drooling while sitting up. |
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| If you have never had a cold Chick-fil-A sandwich with a beer you are doing life all wrong. |
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| First ever attempt at a braid. It has to be all uphill from here right? |
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| There was a dance party when I told them we could buy Cheeze-its. |
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| Benton on his first legit mountain biking trail. |
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| This family brakes for cheese. |
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| Bottom of the Astoria Column. |
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| 164 steps later at the top of the Astoria Column. |
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| These kids love some ice cream! |
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| Safety first when manning the outdoor grill. |
