Originally written July 2023
June was a heavy month for me. I am slowly healing as it was the month of remembering my father’s death - he would have been 49, the month I lost my little bear dog - he was turning 13, and the month I lost what I thought was a home, it was a month filled with deep shades of pain and varieties of loss.
The black book of grief remains on the shelf, I won’t forget it nor move it. As life goes on and the shelf is filled with new books, I continue remembering the ones who are dearly missed. I always return to their book and flip through the pages no matter how worn and weathered it becomes as time passes.
I love my dad, my bear, and all the rest that I have lost. I miss them every day, they were a part of me and continue to be a part of me. Their physical manifestation may not be here anymore but I feel that in some way, they are still giving me strength through it all.
My way of honoring their memory is to pass forward the love that they have poured into my life. To love the same way I was loved. And also, to give love that I was not able to receive but always yearned for. This has also been a reminder for me to be grateful and give love to those I am able to reach out to and to those who continue to reach out towards me - from old friends to new friends, to genuine family, and even the people who pass by my life even for a brief moment.
The sorrow brought about by loss is a familiar fixture in my life. Pain is no stranger, it has broken and continues to break me but I do my best to be steadfast. I always hope for the universe to keep my heart soft enough to keep breaking.
I will dream a little dream of those I will always remember. I hold on to them to constantly remind me that all of this, every bit of it, is for love.
In the words of Heidi Priebe, “Grief is a giant neon sign, protruding through everything, pointing everywhere, broadcasting loudly, “Love was here.” In the finer print, quietly, “Love still is.”
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