When People Say "And One To Grow On"

Diary - Entry 7

Happy Birthday, little man!  I miss you.  I was going to lay the wreath today, but it is pouring down rain, cold and I felt you would understand about the two hour drive.  I don't know what you headstone will look like when it is finished, I was not privy to that information either.  I am sure it will be just as big and grotesque as our mothers. . .afterall, it's the McFarland way to have everything the big and best.

It has been a strange few days. . . it was my first birthday and Thanksgiving without you.  It was my first day back to work Friday after being gone for nearly nearly 3 weeks.  Everyone was very sweet, thay gave me cards, my boss gave me my birthday presents (she went overboard) and she gave me one for you as well, which I thought was particularly befitting the occassion, it was from the Willow Tree collection of wood carvings.  It was a woman, holding some things and it was titled "Remember Me".
Several of my clients came in to see me, they gave me hugs, prayers and one of them left a bouquet of flowers tied to my car and a note that said "I are so very sorry for your loss"  it was unsigned.  So apparently my boss had told everyone about you. . .I thankfully was spared any details that she might have shared about our "odd and very off" family.

It is hard for me to reconcile the fact that you are not here.  The constant being that you have always been, the protectiveness that we have always shared, the secrets that we kept for one another.  Some days, I cannot get out of bed and all I do is stare at the wall or ceiling, watching the fan go round and round, seemingly devoid of emotion, other days, the tears don't stop the reality that your gone and the void that was left by your passing slid into and shares the one left by "him" all those years ago.   Now it's just that much bigger, deeper and painful.  I don't believe that time heals all wounds, grief will lessen in time and all that other bullshit that people say.

I don't know which is worse, the pain of the living as we are left behind to pick up the pieces of a broken portion of our life (which you and I have done so many times), or the agony of waiting for it all to be over so that the life you should have had will be waiting for you on the otherside.  I have to believe that for our sake, growing up the way we did, the things we saw, the things that were done to us. . . Fate, Karma, Past Life Regression. . .whatever you choose to call it, the end result is the same.  The lives of our souls are played out over and over again, until we get it right.  The voids of grief and longing do not coincide with one another any longer and we are, who we were meant to be, not what we where made into and our souls are completed by those that were made for us.