Musings
Oh, there's just too much to catch up on, so I'm not going to. I'm going to muse away and not try to have a point at all. It has been a year. One whole year. That's a long time online.
To say that this has been my outlet for grief would be an understatement. It has been pretty much my only outlet for grief. I have processed and mourned and been real here. I guess typing on my computer and getting it out there has been pretty meaningful. People can read it or not, and I can get it off my chest. I like that.
I drive past Nate's grave almost every day now. I live close to it, but now I am working part time at my child's school and so when I drive carpool or go to work, I drive right past him. I say hi to him, because even though it's his grave, it's also his body way down under all the dirt. He's there in that hoodie that we buried him in and in the pocket of that sweatshirt is the note I wrote him, the last words I spoke to his body. It's a weird feeling to know that he's there and not.
Cole and Nate have a mixed up path that has never met. Nate was here when I went into labor with Cole and chose to leave Boise even though I was having my baby. He left. 4-6 hours later (I can't remember what time he left-- I was in labor!) I had sweet Cole. I have a wonderful message Nate left me from that day, and I wouldn't have that if he had stayed... but I also don't have any pictures of Nate and his nephew. Fast forward a year and Nate dies, his body is in a casket in the funeral home and little Cole is in my arms. I can see them both, just like I could feel my baby and hug my bother a year earlier... but this time Nate is the one who is there but not. Now I take my kidlet to school and Nate is across the street-- all the time, across the street. It's poetic I think. It's sad. It's sweet.
It's March. It's spring. I'm sad. I don't think I'll see spring quite the same ever again. I know that death is a wound--something you carry with you. It's odd how it peeks up sometimes and grabs a hold of my heart. I am sad that Nate doesn't get to be apart of the friendship Colin and I share. I am happy that through Nate's death, Colin and I became bonded like we hadn't been before.
That's how life is, huh? It's the good and the bad and the mixed up feelings that go in between.
Have I said, It's March.
I want to write again. I want to share the good and the bad and have this outlet again. I need it.
So, musings are done. It is late and if you haven't heard, there's an awful time change tomorrow.
Good night, sweet friends, good night.
To say that this has been my outlet for grief would be an understatement. It has been pretty much my only outlet for grief. I have processed and mourned and been real here. I guess typing on my computer and getting it out there has been pretty meaningful. People can read it or not, and I can get it off my chest. I like that.
I drive past Nate's grave almost every day now. I live close to it, but now I am working part time at my child's school and so when I drive carpool or go to work, I drive right past him. I say hi to him, because even though it's his grave, it's also his body way down under all the dirt. He's there in that hoodie that we buried him in and in the pocket of that sweatshirt is the note I wrote him, the last words I spoke to his body. It's a weird feeling to know that he's there and not.
Cole and Nate have a mixed up path that has never met. Nate was here when I went into labor with Cole and chose to leave Boise even though I was having my baby. He left. 4-6 hours later (I can't remember what time he left-- I was in labor!) I had sweet Cole. I have a wonderful message Nate left me from that day, and I wouldn't have that if he had stayed... but I also don't have any pictures of Nate and his nephew. Fast forward a year and Nate dies, his body is in a casket in the funeral home and little Cole is in my arms. I can see them both, just like I could feel my baby and hug my bother a year earlier... but this time Nate is the one who is there but not. Now I take my kidlet to school and Nate is across the street-- all the time, across the street. It's poetic I think. It's sad. It's sweet.
It's March. It's spring. I'm sad. I don't think I'll see spring quite the same ever again. I know that death is a wound--something you carry with you. It's odd how it peeks up sometimes and grabs a hold of my heart. I am sad that Nate doesn't get to be apart of the friendship Colin and I share. I am happy that through Nate's death, Colin and I became bonded like we hadn't been before.
That's how life is, huh? It's the good and the bad and the mixed up feelings that go in between.
Have I said, It's March.
I want to write again. I want to share the good and the bad and have this outlet again. I need it.
So, musings are done. It is late and if you haven't heard, there's an awful time change tomorrow.
Good night, sweet friends, good night.
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