There are bad days and there are worse days. There are no good days. There are days when I can fake it. There are days when I can even mask it from myself. People think I’m strong. People think I’m resilient. Reality is I’m a pretty decent actor. My life, in a very real way, ended June 24, 2015 and every day since then has been just waiting for my body to catch up with that reality. Day 756 and counting.
What I need to do is to find a way to make the days remaining here bearable. So far I’ve done pretty well with that. Meditation, exercise, and the like has helped. There are those times, however, when I want to set the burden down, even if just for a little while. The weight gets unbearably heavy. I’ve had a lot of those in the last couple of weeks. I’m not sure why this is hitting me now, in the height of summer, my favorite season when it’s warm and it’s sunny. The last couple of weeks have been particularly tough. Two years in. Isn’t this supposed to get easier?
This summer I got lucky. Kayla was going to stay in her apartment in Toledo for the summer. I wasn’t going to see her much over the break. But she decided to go to Spain and came home for a month before the Spain trip. She’s been gone three weeks now. She will be home soon for a few weeks before heading back up to her apartment. Having her around is a godsend.
Everything else feels like running a marathon through quick sand. The business is dragging. I keep reminding myself of all the quotes about how many times you have to fail before you succeed. So, I keep trying thing after thing, after thing trying to move the needle. I think about the alternative, trying to find a job with few marketable skills and being in my mid 50s. I haven’t looked for a job in almost 20 years. I’m not really relishing that idea. This morning I’ll meet with the latest marketing company I hired and probably fire them. On Friday I have a meeting with another potential marketing company. The developer I hired a week and a half ago is staying in touch, but no work has been done yet. Patience, I keep telling myself. We can live from savings for a long time, but living from savings is stressful for me. We’ve never had to do it before. How much patience am I supposed to have? What was I thinking when I planned this mess?
I’m facing challenges with the SoulPhone project and with Helping Parents Heal. I’ve got to get back to the SoulPhone thing I’m working on today. We can’t get parents interested in coming to the meetings in Cincinnati. It’ll be a year in a couple of weeks. I’m tired of trying.
I have a buddy in Colorado I’d love to visit. But, Tywana and I already have two trips planned in the coming months. Besides traveling doesn’t really get you away from your problems. You can’t leave them behind.
Yesterday I was listening to Roberta Grimes speak about the afterlife. She described it as being so amazing who would not want to pack up and go. But, she says, “No suicides. You have to do your time here.” Susanne Wilson delivers the same message in her book Soul Smart. I’m reading Nosso Lar. Chico Xavier says if you commit suicide, it means years in purgatory. OK. i get the message. That’s not an option. So, can we maybe make this a little easier to be here? Just a little?
Yesterday, Tywana was asking me about how she can keep her pictures in the cloud but take them off of her iPhone. Apple doesn’t make this easy. I had asked her a few weeks ago to research it. She asked me again yesterday. I’m in the middle of working on stuff for the SoulPhone, trying to get Treasured Locks back on track, doing volunteer work for Unity of Garden Park, and I took on a small project for a friend. But, as Tywana pointed out, I’m doing all of that for other people and I tell her I don’t have time to do this for her. So, I spend a few minutes on Google and come across Amazon Prime Photos, which I had completely forgotten we have. We’ve been struggling to find a way to store our pictures so she can upgrade her iOS on her phone. I send the link to her and tell her to check it out. Then, on a whim, I decide to log in myself. Maybe I can help her get started. Wait? I have pictures already there? I don’t remember putting them there. And there are videos. Most of the videos I recognize from the thumbnails. But, there’s one of Shayna I haven’t seen before.
The video is dated May 2015. It’s just before she cut her hair short and just a few weeks before she passed. I click the play button. Shayna’s friend has been recording Shayna being Shayna being silly when her friends’ mom calls and tells her friend it’s time for Shayna to go home. Shayna calls the house and I pick up. She asks me to come get her and I agree. She hangs up and makes the comment “He said yes. ‘Cause I got him in my back pocket like that.” Classic Shayna. And truer words have never been spoken.
I watch the video over and over. These little moments that we take for granted, we have no idea that one day they’ll be so precious. Sometimes I forget just how much I miss her. Seeing her face, hearing her voice, I can imagine hugging her again. I’d give anything to get that exact same phone call right now, just asking me to come pick her up. The tears flow. Is this happiness from seeing her again or sadness from the longing for more.
I often wish for an after death communication that others have had. People see their loved ones in bodily form. They might feel a hug from them as they lie in bed. I sit and wonder why I haven’t gotten one of those. Then, I realize it may be because it would never be enough. I wouldn’t want to let her go again. The next time I see her I don’t want to have to say good-bye again. Maybe I’m blocking that. As much as I’d like that, I don’t think it’s going to happen.
I go to bed and I have trouble sleeping even though sleep is sweet escape and what I want most in this world. Finally, mercifully, sleep comes. Then, inevitably it seems, the morning comes again and I’m up. Everything I left when I went to sleep is still waiting her for me to come back into the world and face. Day 757.
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