Today, it has actually been a year and a half since that day the weather got dark and stormy and the world never really went back to bright. I know that's a long time, and that I've done a lot and come a long way. But really, at the end of every day, I still can't believe he's gone.
One of the ways I got through it was with music. Jesse gives me that gift every time I see him. Some new song I haven't heard yet, and always accidentally in some perfect moment. The other day, he happened to have an acoustic Circa Survive song playing in the car (from the Safe Camp sessions) when he took me to the airport. Something about it felt like a guilt-kick to the guilty-chest, because it reminded me of this one particular blogger I know. It said, If that's the most important thing you do - detail every ounce of pain that you went through, make sure you leave something there to show the way back. Yep, it said, if that's the most important thing you say, well, make sure they understand.
I think I hit that point somewhere in the past year, and it was good to have it reassure me. Thanks Jesse. It was humbling. Not like he played it on purpose, but he should still get credit just for being rad. Even though I lead this web-rag into the pits of despair, I have to keep in mind how important it is to leave something there to show the way back.
Sometimes I think I should be writing something other than a blog, something that shows more of a way back. Sometimes.
This weekend, my little nephews sorta sang this song to us in the car on the way to Chuck E Cheese (one of them through a pacifier he calls a pashpy). They must have been little angels to my brother, too, their little feet kicking in the back seat as they stared out the window singing, not knowing what the words meant, as their daddy found his way through the past four months. Four months that have introduced him to a pain I'm not sure many others can ever know. It's a reminder. To make sure you remember the way back, even when you hurt about something as much as he does.
You're sure you've hurt in a way that no one will ever know. But someday, the weight of the world will give you the strength to go. Hold on. The weight of the world will give you the strength to go.
It does.
