but i guess my
sure, i have this blog, which some people choose to read. and some of those people publicly follow the blog, and their username lets me know who they are. but others read without following. and still others follow without a recognizable identity. and some people don't read or follow, but they've heard my story.
and it becomes this interesting thing. where at times i interact with people and find myself wondering if they know about me. what they know about me. or i find myself assuming someone knows my story, based on their associations with people i know. sometimes my assumptions are right. but just as many times, my assumptions are wrong.
and it may not seem like a big deal. in fact -- one day, it likely won't be a big deal (which is both a good and sad thing). but right now, as there's still a level of freshness to all of this, it matters. it shapes the way i relate to people. what i say and don't say. the things i avoid. my level of comfort. how much i brace for impact.
in the days after Jarronn died, when i had first gone back to work, my commute was one of the hardest parts of my day. it was during that time -- an hour in the morning and an hour in the evening -- that i felt thrust into the world and like an alien on a foreign planet. i was riding and walking with people who were going about their daily routines at a time when nothing in my life felt scheduled, on track, or planned. and as i walked down the street and people passed me by, all i could think was that they had no idea what i was going through. and that surely, if they did -- even as strangers -- there'd be no way for them to just go about their routine. that maybe they would want life to stop just like i did. even if just for a moment.
but that's not how it goes. how it works. the world keeps turning. life keeps going. and i get further and further away from my loss being the primary detail that's shared about me. and what others know about me.