It's been one year since you left us forever.
There was no warning.
No goodbyes.
No explanation.
When I think about this date one year ago, it seems that the year went by incredibly quick. But when I think about the past year, it seems nonexistent, like time stopped all together.
When you left, it brought a painful end to a number of struggles. But it also brought a painful beginning to new struggles.
Over the past year, I've had thoughts and feelings and emotions that I didn't know where possible to have. I experienced grief on an entirely new level. I've been reading books and articles on grief and they comfort me because I don't think anyone can truly understand what it's like to really understand grief until they experience it personally. It's a strange thing.
One year ago, our lives changed forever. One year ago, I can remember clearly when I found out, yet the next few days, weeks are fuzzy. One year ago, I started asking questions knowing that I would probably never find the answers. One year ago, I had to tell the sweetest four-year-old that you were gone forever.
There is not a day that goes by when I don't think about you. Probably not even an hour.
Sometimes I still feel shocked that you're gone. There is always sadness and pain. And I've also felt a lot of anger. The grief can be all-consuming.
I've waited over the past year, prayed, hoped, wished for some sort of closure. Maybe a letter from you will show up in the mail. Maybe it wouldn't provide all the answers to the questions I have, but would give me something. I'd be lying if I said I still don't pray for that some days.
I've struggled to understand. To understand why. To understand what you were feeling. To understand why you felt this was your only way out. To understand if there was something more I didn't know. To understand how you could leave Jacob and me. One year later, I still don't understand any of it.
You've been gone for one year. Although, if I'm being honest, in a way, you were gone long before then. Yet I couldn't tell you if that makes the physical lost of you harder or easier.
One year later. I'm still not okay. This is not okay. I'm not sure this will ever be okay.
--
I believe that the first anniversary* of a death is always going to be extremely hard, yet this week has been more than I imagined it would be. In some strange, cruel twist of fate or irony - I don't know - I have been forced to essentially relive these three days or so from exactly one year ago.
That Thursday night one year ago, it was Kindergarten Round Up at school. We had pretty much decided that Jacob wasn't going to go to Kindergarten but planned on attending the evening to learn more about the Knights Plus program. This Thursday night, Jacob and I attended the Kindergarten Round Up as he prepares to enter Kindergarten next fall.
Last year, I don't remember exactly, but Jacob stayed home. I think he wasn't feeling good. When I talked/texted Austin, he decided he wasn't going to come or I told him it wasn't necessary since Jacob wasn't with me. He also might have been stuck working later than he originally thought. I think that was the last time I talked to him. I can't remember if he called later that night to say goodnight to Jacob, as was our ritual. I want to say he did.
I can't stop thinking about what could have happened if he had come with that night. Would I have been able to see his struggles? Would I be able to tell something was off? What if Jacob had come along? Would seeing Jacob that night made a difference? I logically understand that the outcome was probably never mine to change, but that doesn't stop the thoughts from coming.
Then Friday. What should have been a normal and uneventful day at the office until everything changed. I almost found myself constantly looking behind me, waiting for a co-worker to come and tell me that the sheriff deputy was there and wanted to talk to me. I left work early; I couldn't be in the building around that same time one year later. I also had a doctor's appointment scheduled, a yearly check-in. Last year, this happened the Monday after it happened. I remember going, feeling like a hot mess of emotions. This year's appointment felt no different. Although there was more anger. Anger that I had to be having these conversations about my mental well-being at literally the worst time of the year.
And Saturday, the actually anniversary date. Last year, there was nothing but fog and sadness. I remember basically nothing. Will today be the same?
It feels like I've been watching and performing in some slow-moving movie where I know what's going to happen, but can't stop it from happening. It's felt a bit like torture actually.
This is hard. This is nothing like anything I could have expected. There are so many feelings it's hard to adequately describe how I feel or tell you how I'm doing. I just know that for right now, I am not okay. But for right now, that's okay.
*Why is there not a better term for the annual recurrence of events that are not happy or celebratory? Can we create one? 'Anniversary' just seems too happy.
