Day 61

I feel guilty. I haven't gone to the cemetery since the second week after you died. Today was cold and blustery but that's no excuse. I had rehearsal tonight, and took a nap after brunch and woke up needing to run errands - getting a free gift from Raymour and Flanigan and picking up a Mothers Day gift for Mom and Denise. I got them both a solar powered butterfly light for their gardens. It's something I know she'd like.

I'm sorry I didn't visit though. I meant too and I should have. I know people will be around tomorrow and despite putting this blog out to the world I'd prefer my visit to be in solitude. I feel less stupid talking to the air if I'm alone.

Last night at Timmy's was weird. Dan and Levi were over and there it was, the gaping hole in our lives. I don't know how they survive it - day after day. The constant vacuum where she used to be. Laughing or bitching, but she was there. And now she isn't. And how do we go on? How do we fill that void? Does it happen over time, a pebble for every memory and eventually it's filled?

 It's like that one science experiment where you try to fill a jar completely. It starts empty and you add pebbles. But there is still space, so you add sand to fill the gaps. But the sand is dry and so there is still empty space. So you add water until the jar is full and then you've filled it.

The big moments are the pebbles, the ones we throw in the jar right when we lose someone. And then we start to fill the jar with the smaller more random memories. Each one is a grain of sand. And we add our tears. And eventually the jar is full, and kind of pretty with all the different colors and we put it on a shelf.

And the suckiest thing about this jar of memories and tears is that it's only the first. As the youngest I will most likely fill enough jars for a bookshelf.