Two posts on one day.
I'm feeling loved, unsettled, sad and proud.
I should go to bed. I should be very normal.
I should try to get on with life.
But I'm haunted by events of 22 years ago.
The day it was confirmed he was dead. And as clichéd as it sounds, nothing has been the same since.
It just doesn't go away. The loss. How could it? No resurrection planned here.
To quote a wise woman
We will both always be running (even sprinting...) to fill the void our siblings left and live 2 lives into one.
She knows. She's felt the shadow of loss and the burden that it can leave you with. But the Ying and Yang of trying to accomplish and achieve so much more that perhaps would not have seemed necessary had we just been left to be the number of children our parents planned.
Maybe that's why I'm struggling to go to bed. I remember him often. I value his memory always. But this day. This anniversary marks a shift. The balance will tip now.
It's nearly tomorrow.
Tomorrow could be just as sad.
But I'm getting tomorrow and for that I'm very glad.