One year

So yeah, it’s one year to the day.

This morning while my coffee brewed I lit some candles, re-arranged my girlfriend’s urn and picture and pennies on my bookshelf.

Last night I had a dream we were texting each other and he was okay, he’d just withdrawn for a while.

I’m not great about big days. I can’t even be relied upon to celebrate my birthday with any regularity much less death days.

I’ve texted his family. Just a string of hearts.

The last thing I ever said to him that I know he heard (well, read–texting) was that I was “astounded and gratified” to have him in my life. Still true.

***

I don’t have a lot to say right now (though I am doing well overall–settling in to my new home, working, reading, slowly getting out into the world again now that I’ve vaccinated). But I do want to be deliberate about grieving in public. About being “out” as a bereaved person. I choose that word deliberately. Just like some people in my social circle don’t realize how many LGBT+ people they know until I tell them I’m bisexual (and I don’t trust everyone with this information–another parallel), I think many of us do not realize how many we know are carrying grief. I think realizing this can help us be more compassionate, more open to the strangeness and vulnerability of this life. I hope being “out” can help other grievers–and that’s all of you, sooner or later–realize that they’re not alone, not weird, and not doomed. I wouldn’t say grief lessens so much as it changes. Like any part of life. It hurts like hell and it’s a gift, because love is a gift. Thank you for reading.