when i was 16

getting settled into my new place has been a steady process. i sold a lot of the furniture from the house and had to get new things that would fit in a space that's 1/3 the size of the old place.

it's been a constant flow of adding a new piece, unpacking another box, and finding space to put things away. over the weekend, i got through one of the final boxes, which contained binders and folders and other miscellaneous items from our office.

i came across a blue mead notebook, which served as my journal when i was 15/16. i was never really good at keeping a daily journal and have made several poor attempts to do so. i guess having recognized that about myself, this particular journal was more like a collection of "essays" about different subjects. it also had corresponding collages of photos and magazine clippings that related to the different topics.

flipping through the pages was pretty interesting. first, it's obvious that everything in the life of a 15-year-old seems far more dramatic than it actually is. as i read over my take on school (i was kind of angry), my first love (i was worse than a bad soap opera), and age (i was so ready to be grown), i couldn't help but recognize how time provides perspective.

i was also surprised to see that there was an essay dedicated to the topic of "death."

it seems that 10 years before Jarronn's passing, i was dealing with events such as the massacre at Columbine and my grandfather's deteriorating health -- all of which made me reflect on my own mortality, my beliefs about the after life, and the impact of losing a loved one.

in my reflection, i acknowledged that death was a part of life but still wrote that i couldn't comprehend the idea of my mom, dad, brother, or friends suddenly dying.

"we're supposed to be invincible, so how can my friends die? and how would i live afterwards? how could i look at the world in the same light? my shield will be shattered to pieces."

(i told y'all i was dramatic).

the truth is, even after maturing by 10 years, this was one perspective that didn't really change. while i knew i'd keep living, imagining a new reality after Jarronn died was extremely difficult. and 10 more years from now, i'm not sure that the sudden death of any of my loved ones will be easier to face. 

but reading this, i thought about being able to respond to my 16-year-old self's questions and tell her - "nothing can really prepare you, but you'll just find a way."

good reading

as a lead up to the 10-year anniversary of 9/11, the washington post has been featuring a series of stories focused on different people/families affected by the events of that day.

one particular article focused on a widow and her family, 10 years later, dealing with their "new normal." though the circumstances of Jarronn's death are certainly different, i found the article deeply moving and could relate to so much that was described in it, even some of the words the widow used are ones i've heard come out my own mouth. a few examples...

being ok, but being a mess. 

not expecting to get better, and not knowing if you want to, because what does that really mean?

     searching for an identity outside of the loss. 

losing 10 pounds in a week. 

selective self-disclosure. 

     "i guess God thinks i am stronger than i thought." 

trying to draw the line between remembering and living. 

feeling like it's foolish to plan ahead. 

     and there's no such thing as perfect control. sometimes planes crash. 

it's a long read, but i think it's really worthwhile. as someone who spends a lot of time writing, i thought the reporter (eli saslow) did an exceptional job.

9/11 widow still trying to find her new normal since the Pentagon attack

more inspiration...

love me some wynonna judd. thanks to momma etelle (my mother-in-law) for sharing this.

changes

lots of changes recently. the biggest one, which i haven't yet shared here is that last month i moved out of the house Jarronn and i lived in (commonly known by friends and family as 'JNJ Estates').

right after Jarronn passed away, there were several people who assumed that i'd want to move out of the house, in order to escape the memories. and there were still people who assumed my recent move was a result of trying to escape emotional baggage. but truthfully, being in our house never made me sad (at least not consciously). it was home. the place we had renovated and decorated together. ours.

if anything, i was inclined to stay in the house, knowing how much Jarronn loved it and how much he wanted it to be. the go-to place for holidays, cookouts on the deck, game nights in the living room, and shooting pool in the basement.

but with him being gone, a lot of those things weren't happening. and while having a home of my own was a blessing, it wasn't something i planned to do without him.

with everything i've been through, i've had to become more focused on doing what's best for me. ultimately, i moved because the house couldn't be what i needed it to be. i needed simplicity. i needed more security. i needed to be closer to things i love in the city. i needed more sunlight. i needed less responsibility. i needed a fresh start.

and so while it took almost two years to arrive at the decision, i'm happy with the one i made. and i think Jarronn would be happy with it too.

now, on to another change, which you probably noticed. the blog has a new layout/design. i thought it was long overdue. (in case you're wondering, the background photo was taken from our spot in jamaica, where i placed Jarronn's ashes.)

application

someone recently posted a comment in response to my post about the paradox of grief. the person asked how i apply the concept, and i started to write a response in the comment section. but then i realized my response was probably long enough for a post of its own. so here it is...

my post:
to lose means that you once had.
and that, in itself, is something to be cherished.

--

original comment:

Anonymous said...

how do you apply that? That's something I find it very hard to do..people say that to me, but I can't seem to do it.   --

my response:
how do i apply it? well, to the person who asked the question -- i'm not sure where you are in your stage of grieving, but i know that i've been constantly reminded that while there aren't tons of people who have experienced the loss i have, there are lots of people who also haven't experienced the kind of love i was blessed to have.

i can choose to focus on what i lost, or i can also choose to focus on what i had.

for some people, the loss of a parent hits them very hard. in those moments, the person grieving can choose to focus on the loss of that person or on the fact that they were incredibly blessed to have a parent who loved them, supported them, and shaped them into the person they are happy to be today. there are so many people who don't experience the kind of relationship they want to have with their parents.

for other people, it might be the loss of a child. the grieving person can choose to focus on the loss of the child or on the fact that they were incredibly blessed to have a child who brought them joy, made an impact on other lives, and made them proud. it's often said that no parent should have to suffer the loss of a child (and I can only imagine how the pain feels). but there are also so many people who want nothing more than to have a child, and for one reason or another, that hasn't been the plan for their life -- whether due to relationship status, health reasons, or other factors.

i say all of this not in an attempt to diminish the very real pain we all feel when we lose someone who is close to us. the same goes for the loss of a relationship, job, home, and other significant item. it hurts. it's tough. it feels unfair. it often has no rhyme or reason.

but when i look at my own situation -- even with my knowledge that what i had seems to have been tragically cut short -- i know that there are people out there who long to experience one month of what i felt. maybe even just one week.

i was blessed to have it for five beautiful years.

and while i still cry, the tears don't only represent the pain. the tears also represent all the good i had. otherwise, there'd be nothing to cry about.

though my loss feels nothing like a blessing, i only feel my loss so deeply because i had something so very wonderful. i'm thankful for what i had. i recognize it's something that many others wish for. i strive to not let it be overshadowed by the loss i feel today.

inspiration

I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, 'The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.'

- Lamentations 3:19-24

the paradox of grief

to lose means that you once had.

and that, in itself, is something to be cherished.