03/08/2026
My younger brother passed away 13 years ago today. God, we miss him. What I wouldn’t give to see him again. The realization he’s gone still ambushes me sometimes. My mind has reconciled the ticking clock but my heart is holding out. This wrong will never be right. And I choose to view moving on as not a choice but rather the work of carrying his spirit in every tomorrow he will never see. I hope I’m doing that.
I wrote a lot when David passed. It was my therapy. Someone once told me that with every post, I was writing the how to book on grief. I’m happy my words resonated and brought comfort to those who unfortunately understand.
I was reading through some of my old posts and thought I’d share the one I wrote on David’s 3rd anniversary of his passing, 10 years ago today. It’s bittersweet for sure but a memory I love thinking back on.
David- We miss you so much. Continue to look down on us until we see you again.
My kids love their bellies. Poking their own and each other's. Pushing the belly button deep into their skin. One night during dinner Liv and Alex were running around the kitchen with their shirts tucked under their chins when Liv turned to me and asked, "Mom, how do I make it move?" She was pointing to her belly, Alex watching in anticipation. I laughed to myself and was instantly transported to the late 80s in my parents' porch. It was the middle of a hot endless summer, as they were back then. David was around 7-8 years old. His hair was blonde, skinned tanned from the sun and he was standing there in his bathing suit. We were dripping from the pool, the water making shadows under our feet. I had just learned how to do this fascinating wave like motion with my stomach. Idle time and long days led to this discovery. David watched me as I sucked my belly in, rolled it down and pushed it out. He laughed but couldn't have been more impressed because without much effort, he began making waves with his too. So there we stood. Two goofballs in our glory. Thrilled by our new ability, we would whip it out during family dinners, when friends came over, when we were bored or just because. This was a small moment in our childhood. Though, a cherished memory I keep tucked safely away.
In the beginning, I measured the time in days, saying to the sky, David it's been 10 days since I last saw you. Then weeks, months, 1, 2, 3 Christmases, birthdays, now years. 3 years. Time will not stop.
But time heals all wounds. I quickly learned, despite the best of intentions, that this old adage only serves to comfort the ones on the outside looking in. It attempts to fill the deep empty space with words where none could possibly fit. Maybe time heals some wounds and maybe only the ones you can see. But time will not take this away. And I fear the day that it possibly could.
3 years. Years filled with moments of sadness like I've never felt. It's a heaviness on my soul. A hollowness in the center of my chest. When I'm knee deep in it, I long for the naïveté days. When every problem had a solution. When I could rest my mind after a long day. When I could sit in the sun and feel all is right with the world.
But then as quickly as the grief enters, it leaves and I'm in the in-between again. The times when I feel strong, when I'm capable of riding out this wave. These are the days, the moments I feel gratitude for what this has shown me. Like when my daughter whispers back while drifting to sleep, "I love you too" or when I glance at my rearview and my eyes meet my nephew's eyes and it's David looking back at me.
3 years. The amount of time it takes to build a ship or master a new skill. It's also the amount of time psychologists say it takes to truly know someone or if you work hard enough, to know yourself. And finally it's the amount of time it takes to see a blue moon. That's where we get the saying "Once in a blue moon" because its occurrence is so rare. I have used this saying many times without giving it much thought. However, it has taken on a profound meaning for me lately. People are rare. No two are perfectly alike and no one person can ever be replicated. Deep love is rare and the bond you have with your family and friends is yours and enhances your life in ways that only become obvious once you feel their absence. The inside jokes, the history, the shared stories, the comfort in their presence. And once it's gone, it can not be replaced. Value the good people in your life and hold onto the moments. Treat those who walk along side you as special and your experiences with them as extraordinary. For they are the people and these are the moments that may only come along "once in a blue moon."
David- we love you and miss you. No increment of time will ever change that.
