Wednesday, June 27, 2012

iPod Shuffle

I constantly have my headphones in.  It's a weird obsession. I've always liked music, especially songs that make me feel something, but lately it's more than that.  I don't want to be alone with my thoughts. Maybe the music drowns it out.  Granted, I pick music that suits my mood and whatever situation might be going on...but I hate even walking down the block alone without my iPod on.

I think I'm doing ok.  I mean, it doesn't really get any easier, but at least I feel like I can feel.  I miss Jon as always, but I find myself missing him in different scenarios than before.  I obviously miss everything, but my life is going on.  And so I find myself missing my best friend... the person I feel like would have all the answers and advice I need.  There is this overwhelming feeling of abandonment... I find myself feeling sort of angry that he's not there and he's left me to fend for figure out this already challenging life without him.  I know it's not his fault, but I can't help it.  Sometimes I want to just yell out his name and ask him what the hell he thinks I should be doing.  I believe he's with me.  He sends me signs and reassuring thoughts, but in all honestly, it's not enough.

It's amazing how life goes just keeps moving.  It's amazing how resilient the human heart is, even though mine was shattered into a million pieces, it's still hanging on.  The human capacity for hope is astounding.  We all desperately want to believe in something.

At work, we can be pretty quick to judge parents who are "unrealistic" about their chid's prognosis.  But after going through this experience, I get it.  It's not that they don't get it.  I knew all the facts about Jon's prognosis.  I heard it when the doctor said it was only a matter of time.  But with every step forward, with every "good day" or improvement, my hope was renewed.  I don't think our hearts let us accept defeat until it is absolutely inevitable.  I couldn't truly accept it until his heart stopped beating.  And it's not because I wasn't smart, or realistic... it's because I had to hold it together until there was nothing left to believe in.  I could not have fallen apart before there was a true reason to.  People who haven't gone through something like this will never understand what I mean by that.

And so I'm still here.  I'm trying to figure out what that means.  My heart still works, which is reassuring.  But having gone through something like this, it makes it so frustrating to watch people just float through life...never rocking the boat, never taking risks, never challenging others or themselves.  There is SO much life out there to be lived.  And some of us, like Jon, never get a chance to live it.

I'm not who I was 5 months ago, that's for sure.  But I know what love feels like.  I know how to give my heart away, and how to cherish someone else's heart like it was my own.

No lesson in this life can be greater.  And so the next person I give my heart to is luckier than he'll ever know.

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