Year 5

“No length of time or conclusions drawn can make losing you seem normal. My universe is permanently flipped — I’m forever living in a surreal world knowing that you’re gone. That much I know to be true. But I will never stop seeking truth and understanding the deeper underlying meaning behind my pain.”

How to even begin? There’s something about the number 5 – it signifies something significant, paramount. My brain operates in 5’s – I see it as a stopping point… a grouping point to represent something larger. And there’s something about 5 years passing, knowing that in a mere 5 more years, it will have been a decade since you left. I’m a slave to the numbers it seems.

So 5 years – and what have I learned? What role has this played in my life? Where am I? You know what’s interesting? I’m sadder than I’ve ever been. Not in life, as a whole – but when it pertains to you, your memory, your loss… I find that I’m filled with greater sorrow as time passes. I’ve concluded that that’s a good thing… it means I’m not angry anymore, not resentful, not suppressing any of it — it means I’m feeling. What a glorious pain.

Ironically, my journey has drawn me closer to you. I don’t feel like this is something that folks talk about often, but when you lose someone, at least in my personal journey, your relationship with that person doesn’t end…it takes on a different form entirely. This is something I truly didn’t see coming, and, in many ways, it’s deeper than I could have ever imagined. It’s honestly hard to articulate. In one of the twisted “catch 22s” of life as I call it, the greatest personal loss I’ve ever experienced has become one of the greatest gains I never saw coming. Don’t get me wrong – there’s a hollow in my heart that will never truly be filled. But, whether this makes sense or not, I take refuge in this hollow place. I’m not afraid of it. I tend to and care for it, knowing in a sense, that it’s one of the most beautiful parts about me.

But I will be honest and say that… as brave as I try to be in walking through the fire — you still terrify me. I still can’t help but to think of your last days on this Earth… the pain and darkness surrounding them. My mind still drifts to your apartment… and as an empath, I still feel  that lonely and solemn energy when I stepped inside. It still chills me to my core. I’ve felt pain, and pain that I think to be close to that. but I can’t fathom pain to THAT level. In many ways, I see you as such a strong part of me, and in turn, I see that darkness as part of me, too. It’s a darkness I will use for the better. And what I also know…The energy I felt walking into that apartment, knowing where it stemmed from… I never want another human being to feel that way and think they can’t get out of it. Never. And that will be rooted in my purpose while I remain on this Earth, knowing that I need to look out for myself before anything else so that I am better suited to help others.

In terms of my day-to-day life, the sadness does hit me out of nowhere more often than it used to before I started processing all of this. Life does go on, but the further and further you drift away from the moment of loss – it doesn’t change or lessen the pain from my perspective – you simply adapt. While I do turn to the memories as a place of refuge, they almost hurt more right now. I view your life like a timeline sometimes to better understand you and why it ended up the way it did. It helps, most days. But no matter what outlets I seek out or angles of analysis, it still boils down to the harsh sting of absence. Whether it’s a song on the radio, seeing a father and daughter together, seeing you in a stranger’s face… it doesn’t matter what form it takes, it knocks the wind right out of me.

I live with a constant battle of wanting you here versus wondering who I would be had this never happened, arguably one of the most conflicting aspects to face. Ultimately, I embrace presence, the bigger picture, accepting the situation and choosing to believe that it all equates to something bigger, both for me and the world. But, damn, this pendulum of emotion is overbearing at times.

There’s not much more to say and all the more difficult to summarize. I will take this overwhelming sadness over resentment, anger, and confusion any day of the week. Although confusion may never truly go away, I’ve settled into the truth I’ve found in all of this madness and will never stop seeking out.

It’s going to be a long road ahead, but I will never, ever leave you behind. We are in this together, still, and forever.