Not Normal

Hey Chris,

The past week was weird. Harder. I can feel normal life settling in again. I don’t like it.

I spent the weekend in the city. The first real weekend out. I saw friends. I couldn’t bring myself to go to Maddie’s birthday, I couldn’t handle small talk. I went to a dinner instead - with Devin, Gina, and Merp. Gina remembered playing with you at our house during college. I guess you were 8 or 9. You thought she was great (she is). I can still picture you laughing with her on the couch. Is that a real memory? Did I make it up? I think you’d remember too.

I thought a small group would be easier. But there was a couple there I had never met. They were lovely. He had just run an Iron Man. But we didn’t talk about you. I could have brought you up, but I didn’t want to throw my pain at them. New people. But you were there next to me the whole time. I almost felt I was ignoring you; I should be talking about you. Keeping you there. But I can’t do that always. At the end of the night, when the couple left, the conversation turned to you. Finally. I could talk about the only thing that really matters to me right now. 

Your funeral was so beautiful. I wish I could go back. I mean, I wish I could go back to before you were gone… but if I can’t get there I want to go to just after it happened. The ritual. Wrapped in shock and sadness. It feels appropriate. If you are gone the world should reflect the gaping hole you left. Everyone should be crying constantly (myself included). 

But I know that’s not what you would want. I know I have to tiptoe back into normal things. But you’ll be there always. I promise. 

Love,

Mike