Living a year without Rob: The first of everything is the hardest. I knew and expected as much over this last year. At times, grief subtly forces me to withdraw from the things I enjoy the most. I can only guess as to why, but I am aware of griefs blight. Shaving was abandoned in my despair the first few days without Rob. My mourning beard became an unintended, quirky, private tribute to Rob. My Facebook profile picture with Rob is another silent but obvious tribute and has remained unchanged over this last year. I chuckle in wonder of how many unfamiliar people have seen my profile picture and assume a different type of a life partnership. A small shrine has been erected in our house to honor the memory of Rob. Pictures, vandal and gonzaga gear, coolie cups, slippers and other artifacts provide tangible elements and representations to just a few of the good memories. A years time has dulled the pain, but the aches of his absence remain. Rob was as much my brother as he was my friend. I never could of expected that he would be taken so soon and without circumstance. His passing painfully reminds me that grief usually accompanies regret and will break into our lives again...and again. When, how and who, we can not know. We do know it will surely come. Our regrets will amplify our grief. My relationship with this grief has spawned deep appreciation for who and what is important in my life now, as well as from my past. I am learning to make new priorities and putting my family and friends above all else and at all times. Sure, making a living will always be a necessity, but we cant buy back the time we dont spend with one another. I now realize that Rob had always lived this way. The quality of our time together is worth far more then the span. My wish, for all of us here, is that we capitalize on whatever span we, and others, have left.
Posted on: Wed, 08 Oct 2014 07:07:35 +0000
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