No one told me that it could take this long.
No one warned me of all that needed to be done. Even if they had, I wouldn’t have believed them.

“The first year is the hardest.”, they said.
Perhaps they were right and I just don’t remember? I’d have to say though that, for me, this third year has been the hardest.
I’ve made some major life changes in order to recover, grow, and begin to heal. Intensely examining myself – past, present, and potential future – in order to process everything that has happened, how it has affected me, what it all means, and how I can learn from it and use it to become better, wiser, and stronger.
All the while we have been constantly rehashing the details of the event in preparation for and execution of a jury trial which turned out to be a complete facade of justice, wrought with lies and an unlawful restriction of evidence.
And then there has been this coming to terms with the fragility of life and finality of death, as well as an acceptance of all that no longer is, can never be, and the emptiness that follows such a realization.

“October” makes me miss them more… but as I watched the leaves change to the brightest of colors, die off, and begin to fall, I felt a part me die inside, as well. Truth be told, for the better part of this month, I’ve felt nothing like myself and more like the shell of a human being simply going through the motions of day to day life without really LIVING much of any of it.

And I’m tired of it all. It’s exhausting.

This week has been especially hard as my sister and I navigated the final steps in closing the estates and prepare to officially cut ties with our legal team once and for all. All the while the timing of this culmination spans the anniversary of our parents deaths (October 26th) and concludes upon the anniversary of their funeral and burial. (November 2nd)

It’s been a long time coming.
I wish I could say that I am happy. I am simply numb.

Like a boxer stepping out of the ring after the match has been called a draw; relieved that it is over, yet battered and bruised, and in desperate need of repair.
There are no winners here; simply the conclusion of a long and drawn out fight.

I took some time to visit them this week. I placed 36 stems upon their grave; one for each month of this tumultuous journey.

I am not a “religious” person. I am still unclear on how I feel about any amount of “life after death”, but as I lay there looking up at the sky, I felt a wave of calm wash over me. I couldn’t help but think that no matter what happened or where they are now, we sure gave them a beautiful view right here, right now.

Realizing this made me proud – as I hope they would be of me now.

As I drove myself home that night, the void felt a little less thick. I could hear the words echoing in the back of my mind: “It’s time to get on with living.” …and for the first time in a long time, I couldn’t agree more.

#ChasingBoston #ForTheLoveOfTheRun