It’s quiet in my life.

I am reminded of the predawn hours when time seems to stop, just before the birds wake up and my side of the planet is motionless in its slumber. It’s almost soothing at times, and others, tormenting.

I miss the constant flow of emails and texts; an open and ongoing dialogue we had between us. Most of it was wonderful, parts of it were very sad. But I miss them, all the same. It seems like months instead of four weeks since ‘my world as I knew it’ ceased to exist. There is a new one now, a new path I’m walking on. I kinda like it but there is a sadness follows me like a little lost kitten.

I turn back, often, pick it up and comfort it the best I can. I tell it that I love it and that it’s ‘okay’ to be what it is and it can stay with me for as long as it needs to. You need to own your grief; that way it works with you to heal. If you ignore it, it will find you, anyway, and by that time, it will be pissed and you’ll be in serious emotional trouble.

I miss countless things but others I do not. I don’t miss the constant anxiety we dealt with (us, being myself and the woman who was his best friend) and the fear. I miss the fear, the least. It would consume me throughout the day and into the night and early morning. Was he okay? Should I check in? What do I do if he doesn’t?

Our worst fears were realized all too quickly and although my soul wants to place the blame solely on myself, (because I’m good at doing that) I know there was nothing anyone could do. It was his choice. I guess it always was. That’s what life and sometimes death are…choices.

We, who are left behind, live with it and we move forward. It’s not pretty, but we carry on and someday, we’ll remember only the good things and the gifts he gave us. These gifts are precious and I find new ones, daily, to be grateful for. I wonder if I’d have recognized them if he were still here?

I’ll share one. I once asked him what to invest my $$ in. As he was a trader, (and plumber!) I figured he’d have a lot to teach me in that area. As it turns out, not so much…because he felt that wasn’t the best thing for me at this point.

The advice he gave me was:

“Rather than look to what investments you can invest your money into, I would actually suggest you invest it in…yourself. Seriously. At least some of it anyway. Your real earning potential is in fact, You. So why not invest in it? Can you REALLY think of a better use your own money? You commented in the mall that just think of how good a photographer you’d be if you had serious instruction. Well, that’s the sort of thing I’m talking about. I am NOT suggesting you take random courses in quirky things without a plan. That’s stupid. What I am suggesting is that you have a look at your current skills, and what you enjoy doing and want to spend more time on, and what can be financially rewarding, and spend the money to make that happen. It might very well be that something involving your musical talents is your ticket – so maybe you need piano lessons, or even a piano. Or maybe it’s recording time, or equipment. (I’m just throwing out examples, nothing more), so that’s investing in yourself. And maybe it’s not even a big financial commitment, but more of a time commitment – maybe it’s a night class, or two.”

That was what he wrote. It was some of the best advice he ever gave me. So, that’s what I’m starting to do. Thank you for that, Brian. It may be, quiet, here in this world, without you…but you are still teaching me and I can still hear your voice in my head, coaching me to do the best thing, possible, for myself.

I love you for that. xox

Fractured Sails

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