Two Years

I could have swore that we were untouchable.

Immortal.

That tragedy wasn't allowed on our doorstep -

Because this is the type of thing that only happens in the biggest box office hits.

A top headline you caught a glimpse of on the morning news.

A murmur in the background -

Just make believe.

Come to find out,

I was naïve...

So. Damn. Naïve.

Month 1: I wake up every day with a pain in my heart. It doesn't feel real. I decide it isn't.

It's been 2 years, but can someone please tell me...

When does it all become real?

Because 24 months in and I'm still in denial.

Lying to myself.

Convincing myself that you're just on some drawn out vacation.

You're coming back.

You. Have. To.

Please,

Come back.

Month 3: How is the earth still spinning?

A lot can happen in 2 years.

Graduations. Deaths. Births. Breakups.

But.

The one things that remains the same is -

You're not here.

But that doesn't change that fact that each one of these milestones triggered the continuous reaction of me picking up the phone to call you.

For your advice. Your comfort. To hear your voice -

Your insight.

Each time praying that you would pick up and promise me that everything is going to be okay.

But instead -

Unanswered texts and calls to hear your voicemail turned in to replies of "Who is this?"

And "Please stop calling and texting this number."

Month 6: I walk around with a weight that everyone should see, and I can't understand why no one knows that one of the supporting columns of the earth is gone.

I still haven't mastered the "Do you have any siblings?" question.

And I don't think I ever will.

Breakdowns come without warning

Our family is different,

But not in the way you would think.

Closed off. Arms crossed.

Refusing to meet each other in the middle.

Afraid to bring up opposing sides of grief with the fear that actual bombs could be set off in the midst of conversation.

Month 9: Why did you go?

Dating is weird.

Relationships don't work out.

How do I tell someone I'm broken when I'm told that I'm "needy" before I get the chance?

I don't know how to open up without feeling judged.

Month 12: I say goodbye to you in a million different ways, but it doesn't feel real. It will never feel real.

I fear for the future.

For all that will come,

But for the millions of little things that will never be.

Month 16: I can't do this anymore

I lost a part of my past, present, and future in a single day,

In a single exhale of life.

The world stopped when you died.

And I've come to terms with the idea that the rest of the people in the world don't know that.

But I'm still here, noting how long it's been since the last time I remember it spinning -

Slowly coming to terms with those millions of little things...

She will never meet my husband.

She won't stand as the Maid of Honor in my wedding.

Or walk down the aisle of her own.

My kids will miss out on the badass Aunt I know she would have been.

Month 19: It hurts

Once upon a time, July was a pleasant month.

It was the warmest time with the most sunshine.

It was filled with fireworks and small town festivals.

I pray that future Julys are filled with growth, blessings, new opportunities, love, miracles, healing, and change.

But for now, July, I am not a fan.

I'm still learning how to be and act in this world without you by my side

I'll never smile the way I used to,

but I promise,

I'm going to be okay.

Month 24: It still hurts.

---

"She's in the sun,

the wind, the rain,

she's in the air you

breathe with every

breath you take.

She sings a song,

of hope and cheer,

there's no more pain,

no more fear.

You'll see her in

the clouds above,

hear her whisper

words of love, you'll

be together before

long, until then listen for her song."

Sierah Catherine Joughin