Sometimes, there is so much to say it's impossible to say anything.
I'd like to introduce you to basically my entire life for the last nine months. Which is interesting, because in that amount of time, I feel kinda sorta like I've given birth to a different version of myself.
This is not a complaint, mind you, but I have to admit that my life right now is nothing like what I was prepared for. And it is nothing like my life last year at this time. It is precisely as it should be, regardless of how little time and opportunity I had to prepare for it.
For starters, my sisters and I now share legal guardianship of our brother. Let that sink in just a l'il bit: I am responsible for another human being. That was never part of the plan, and yet it was never sensible to do anything else. I mean, I always knew at some point I would need to make Mike a priority. I always expected I'd need to be close enough to make a weekly trip to see him.
I expected that to happen when I was an old woman.
Also ... hell. Am I an old woman? I don't even feel like a grown up.
See what I mean? There is too much to say. Too much to think. Too much to ponder. And so I haven't written.
I promised I would eventually write about the experience of losing Dad. The poetry and wonder that walked alongside the grief. The beauty of how it unfolded, and how it felt so much like the best way the worst thing could happen.
And so, it's time. It's time to get it out, and that's my goal for 2018. I'll spend some time this year reflecting on last. The loss, the love, the lessons.
As my friend Janie says, "leap, and the net will appear."