One Month(And a Day) Later...A Reflection

I apologize for doing something like this again.  I won’t make a habit of this since I don’t like being all that morbid, but I feel the need to say something yet again.  I even began writing this a week ago, since it was in my head, and waited until a proper moment.  As of right now it has been a month and day since the infamous event.   Granted it feels like it’s simultaneously been longer and shorter for varying reasons, but regardless, things are the way they are.  I find it weird, mulling things over now, since my previous diatribe was done as an effort to keep him fresh in my mind while he was still fresh in my mind.  The day before, the three of us were in our regular groove, weary of his condition, but none the wiser of the events that were to take place at 3 the next morn.  Things have definitely happened since then.  Since his cremation, school has slowly settled in back to as normal as it can get, and I’ve taken up almost a part time job babysitting.  It’s weird not having interacted with him for this long.  While I can definitely think of some, there are still very few days I can think of in my life where he and I didn’t interact with one another (with the only other person close to that regard being mom).  The two of us have been doing as well as you can, though the house feels rather empty without him. I find myself breaking many of the rules he previously established partly out of empathy, while key things he said to me over and over swirl throughout my mind non-stop.  I tend to be fine throughout the days, but it’s the nights that get me, particularly Tuesday leading into Wednesday.  In my weaker moments, I search through old emails that he sent, listen to the many voice messages he sent me (which he himself told me to get rid of, now I’m glad I ignored him on that level) and go over the last work he edited for me I search for any other papers we worked on together that he scribed on (I’ve found 1, but I've yet to succeed any further).  They are nice, but they hardly meet the desire I have for him to come home.  I even brought his retirement card to school one day in thoughts that I’d feel better.  Instead, I broke down after returning home, even missing Karate since I could hardly function.  People have been regularly telling us that if we need anything, they are there, and while their words are greatly appreciated, the one thing we TRULY need we can never get.  At nights, when I see those pictures of him… of us… I find myself weeping.  I know it wasn’t my fault, yet I still feel responsible.  I did everything I could in the moment, but I feel as though I could have done more.  It keeps ringing these questions that linger in my mind.  How do you move forward, when the shoulder you cry on is the one in the casket? How do you let the pain flow when Dad taught you to learn from things and move on? I try to be there for mom, but I have none there for me like him.  I know there are those I can turn to, and some I have.  But, none got me more; understood my psyche; knew what ticked me off; talked with me more than anyone on the planet than Dad.  I miss our meaningless conversations, those heart-to-heart chats, the heated debates that would go on forever, the diatribes that were both brief and endless.  Assignments have come and gone that I know my editor would have been helpful with.   Events have occurred that I know we would discussed.  Yet, none of that changes the situation we’re in, and nothing ever will, driving me insane.  I even feel guilty harping on this when others have lost family members and pets more recently than I.  What do you say to them, when it still hurts?  What can you say?  Writing has been one of the few outlets to get the pain off my chest, yet nothing gets him off of my mind.  All I know, is that despite everything, there is only one person who would know what to say to me in these darkest hours.  One guy, that knows me well enough, that can bring me up when I’m feeling down. One man, who will try to cheer me up with terrible humor, but will still make me laugh after being amused by my lack of reaction.  A single individual, who would have a field day with me currently repeating sentences like this, as it feels poor in terms of writing, and would have a better idea for both its presentation and throw in some fancier words to boot.  But now, he’s not here, and it only makes me miss him more.