Saying Goodbye

I finally visited Hannah's grave. I started crying. It was cold, lonely. A cloudy day staring at a gray rock. I waited almost four years before setting foot in that cemetery. I think I was holding on to some piece of her existence. It's so final. I realized standing there, talking to the her resting place, that she is at rest. That she's not here. There's no magical connection between a tombstone and the person it marks. I still love her, I still miss her. But she's not here--not even a piece. Only the memory is here.

I don't think I was ready to move on. I'm still not. But going there after all this time it just made the pain come back to life. It was a necessary step. I love the decorations. My friend was well loved. Her family, her friends, her acquaintances, they keep her tomb dressed for the season, they keep the memory of her cherished and adored. What a beautiful human, what a beautiful legacy.

I also visited Squalicum beach today. It was one of the last places I remember walking Taffy with my mom. I miss Taffy so much. She was the most amazing companion. She was more than our family could ever ask for. She could never be replaced.

And then there's the friends I've lost who are still alive. There's the people in High School that I lost touch with, who only exist in pictures I see every once in a while. There's my best friends, so many over the years, who knew me so well, who now only exist in memories. It's weird. Going about life, them going about their's. And not knowing each other. Not sharing every laugh and every thought. Trying to fill that void. To keep loving and relating to new people. Even though I'm healed, and I'm not dwelling on broken friendships, every once in a while I still feel it.

Even though I'm over it, sometimes it still hurts.

I had my person. A person in high school, two or three in college. And each time I feel like I messed it up. Each time I lose them. I have to grieve the living; and maybe I am over it, but maybe I don't want to do it all over again. Maybe that would hurt more than to just stop trying.

God knows. He gives and takes away. He knows what's best for me. Knows when I'm being obstinate and not letting people in. Sometimes I feel like I should just wear a shirt that says "damaged goods" or "has too many walls up" because it's easier than explaining that I can't just blindly trust anymore. It's hard to love fully. To abandon all reason and care 100% for people that might just let you down. It's the biggest challenge. To keep doing over and over again what has let you down so many times before.

I want to be quick to forgive. Quick to love. Quick to lean in and forget everything else. I'm working on it. I want that thing that gives people more humanity than the rest. To be vulnerable is everything.

More than anything, she wanted to stop feeling like a wordless poet.