I walked through the snowy woods this morning as the sun hid behind the grey clouds. It was quiet, and so cold. With every crunch of my boots hitting the frozen ground, I called out to you. Some wished for herons, rainbows, a crack of thunder, any sign that you may be close. So many called out to me today, reminding me that they too remembered, they too were walking with it in a heavier way than they normally do. I think we all hoped on this day that you too may call out and remind all of us that you once existed, and somewhere beyond the mountain tops I walked upon this morning, the steps I am sure many of your friends and family walked throughout the world today, we all hoped that you still do. That you still exist somewhere within our reach.
It's strange to me that your death day brings out these desires, these rituals. It's so morbid at times. We seem to travel back in time on March 9th. We inflict ourselves with the torture of your loss. I can remember the smells, the sounds of the sirens, the headlamps, the cold rain, the helplessness. I can go there in an instant. I learned pretty quickly after you left that this one day of pain would not be the case for me, and for many. The absence of you would not resemble in a day, a short moment in time, but with every second, minute, every beat of my heart. We would walk with open wounds every day until we're not here anymore. I have learned with time to fuse with these scars, to disguise them through my genuine laughter, my smile, my work ethic, and the love I can still give.
Beyond my flesh and bones there is a brokenness within me that is finalized. Apart of me has turned cold since March 9th, and my ability to give everything, to love everything with every part of my soul has seemed to seize. Nothing taste quite the same anymore. Am I a good wife now? Am I genuine? I wonder at times if Tristan may have been cheated by my scars, my fears, my anger. Must he always share me with you, you who are gone, you who left, you with your reckless need for thrills, you who I adore, who I love, who I am homesick over? I'm hurt by these thoughts, I feel cheated, disgruntled, I felt angry at you as I walked.
As the tears began to build and I felt I just might allow myself to break and crumble into my morbid thoughts, something happened. Something happened as I stood out over the mountain tops and stared way down into the river below me. I could hear you screaming up at me through the rapids. I heard you so loud, so clearly that I froze, my attention turning to face you head on with my anger, with my questions, with my opinions. There you were as promised, getting stronger and stronger so you could help me. I felt something electric move within me, a warmth from my head to my feet. I could feel your heart beating within me, and it was like my eyes were re-opened to the vast beauty all around me. You told me to chin up as you always have, to look ahead as you always have, and to remember you not for the pain, the rage, the hurt, the sadness, but for the laughter, the love, the adventure that was you, that is me, that is all of us that search for you. You reminded me to use your heart and your strength to give all my love to my husband, my family, my friends, to those that may be coming one day. So I soaked you in, I inhaled the cold air until I felt my lungs may explode, I held you in my chest until I felt my heart begin to rest again.
So I smiled back at you through the bitter cold, I blew a kiss to the sky, and I thanked God for the joy and love I can still feel within my heart through the scars. I thanked God for my life that emerged from you, and for my past life that is forever with me.
I closed my eyes and pictured you, arms stretched out towards me, young and vibrant, no worries in the world, smiling, laughing, just as you were, just as you are, just as I am.
As you were muffin, as you were.
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