When someone you love passes on, the day they pass leaves a permanent mark on your soul.
Each year becomes a collection of new memories with a conspicuous hole in them; a place where someone was supposed to be.
The day carries an odd juxtaposition of somber and “carrying on,” which can be jarring—as a society, we tend to pause when a president or an athlete dies, but most of us regular folks don't receive that kind of recognition.
The world, and indeed life, keeps right on with its proverbial—if you'll pardon me for saying—bullshit.
It seems almost cruel to laugh, joke about nonsense, or plan for the future; that is, of course, exactly what she would want. Grief, if it’s any comfort, is at least a one-sided affair. (Granted, there are a lot of us on this side.)
Today is a day of grief for my family, not to mention pretty much everyone who knew her, but our lives, too, must carry forward.
No, twelve years is not enough to dull the ache. We miss you, Steph. You may be a hole in our lives, but your life gives that emptiness meaning. Over a decade later, that void still hurts because of how you affected us all.
Because of how you still affect us.
Love often hurts, but after all, it is the most powerful force in the Universe. It is no coincidence that some religions claim that God is love. Whether you believe that or not, you can’t deny that love can be healing and destructive; a fountain of both joy and pain. But man, let me tell you, is it ever important.
Never forget that.
Today, like every other day, we remember love.
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