“Grief does not change you, Hazel. It reveals you.” ― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars
Four years have gone by seemingly with the snap of my fingers and while I still miss you like crazy… I’m not going write much about that this year.
Because the truth is, and you would be happy to know, even though another year has passed and you weren’t here to experience it, there’s still so much of you around. I see it all the time in her and every day in P. I can’t take a photo or a video of him without looking back at it and thinking… that’s so very you.
Don’t get me wrong, there are days it still gets me—where it comes out of nowhere—and the weight of it is surprisingly crushing— like one of those carnival games where you hit the lever to see how high you can make the thing go– only there are no winners and it’s my heart the hammer comes down on.
But more often than not, it isn’t like that. That’s the thing about losing people you love, I guess. It magnifies the importance of living.
And, yes, I do know that sounds like a silly platitude, a cliché statement that looks good on the page. But I don’t care. It’s the truth.
Four years is nothing, really. But if I could do it all again, I would have learned sooner how to care less about what other people think. I would have understood that truth is mostly about perception and to spend a second longer than necessary trying to convince anyone of anything is a waste of precious time.
You were always better at these things than I was. Which is something I probably wouldn’t have admitted before.
That was then…
This is now.
P.S. Sometimes people send me stuff and it reminds me of a conversation we might’ve had. It reminds me of all the things I’ve learned, both in knowing you, and in losing you. This is one of those things…