This Fragile Life

I have never known loss to this extent until now. Sure, I've grieved situations and relationships in the past and those bring with them their own pain but losing someone to the inescapable reality of our mortality is a completely different feeling. To know that you won't get to see the person's smile on their face anymore, that you won't get to hear their stories, that they have told oh-so many times before, anymore is... overwhelming. On one hand it's "better" to have already anticipated the person's passing rather than having them go suddenly but when the case is a slow deterioration of the mind, to the point where they are unable to communicate in the end is unbearable. In my last conversation, I had a feeling that this may have been it. That I wouldn't ever get to have a conversation again. At the same time, part of me was holding on to the hope that I would, maybe, get to see his face again, asking him to repeat all the stories he told me as a kid. Back then I would be begging, in my mind, for him to stop because I had heard it all before. Now these stories are escaping my memory and that scares me. It scares me how fragile our memories and our lives really are. And there is no escaping from it.

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I remember how I would visit my grandparents every once in a while as a kid. My favourite thing to do was to go rollerblading with my Oma down their street, up a little hill, and then along endless amounts of farmland, all the way to the forest. I would race ahead, come back, circle her, and every once in a while we would stop and just watch the cows go about their day.
In the mornings my Opa would walk to a farm to get fresh milk from the farmer. I loved coming with him. I can still clearly remember the road we would walk down, filled with beautiful wild flowers to the left and endless amounts of forest to the right. On the ground? Mostly cow dung but hey, you take the bad with the good. When we finally got to the farmer I would run towards the calfs while he fetched the milk. I never had much of a desire to live on a farm (city girl at heart), but every once in a while it was simply magical watching and petting little calfs, all the while the German Shepard stood guard and barked.
This was more than a decade ago and I would give anything to have one more of those days to truly treasure it.

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Five years ago I took a short flight with my grandparents and to be completely honest, it's frustrating enough navigating through a massive airport by yourself, never mind having two elderly people in tow who don't speak a lick of English. As I look back, however these things become less of an inconvenience and more of time spent together that I should have cherished right then and there. But we never do, because we don't think about the fact that any minute and every moment we spend with people could very well be our last. I'm not one for creating paranoia and being constantly scared of what happens to people when we're not with them but at the same time, I think it would do us all some good to appreciate the time we spend with people more.

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Right now I'm resting in the assurance of God's sovereignty over all. Rather than asking Him why he took him away, I want to thank him for allowing me to have a relationship with such an amazing man of God.

23 → 24

Sometimes I like to think that I'm a writer. Thoughts run through my mind constantly and writing them out is a way for me to process them. I simply cannot process my thoughts, feelings, and emotions without either talking them out with someone or writing them down. Sometimes I like to think that I'm a writer. Then I realize how terrible my form is, how awful my sentence structures are, and how badly I articulate my words. Still, I enjoy writing. It doesn't have to be for everyone. Most of the time, it's just for myself and that's okay.

It's now a day before my 24th birthday and I am sitting in my suite, staring at the coffee table where I put down my Starbucks coffee, my boots thrown on the ground by the door, a couple of dishes in the sink that need to be washed, and listening to José González' Stay Alive. I'm home.

Sometimes there's things a man cannot know

Gears won't turn and and the leaves won't grow 

There's not place to run and no gasoline 

Engine won't run 

And the train won't leave

I will stay with you tonight

Hold you close 'til the morning light

In the morning watch a new day rise 

We'll do whatever just to stay alive 

Wait... I'm home? Yeah, I'm home. I actually have my own home. For years and years I didn't have a physical home that I could call my own. I reverted to calling people my home. Wherever I was loved, that was home to me. But this feeling of actually being able to come home after a day of work or social outings and knowing that this is my space is very unusual for me. This is a new place to make memories in. Good or bad. I welcome them both. 

I like to think of 22 being the worst year of my life and 23 the best. My life changed drastically from 21 to 22 and then again (for the better) from 22 to 23. 

22 was the year I lost all will to live. It got so bad that I had to seek counseling in order to even function throughout the day. By the grace of God and through the means of therapy I was able to break away from my past and all the pain I had gone through. 

Then 23 happened. I became a healthy and stable person. Relationships were reconciled. Friendships were born. Adventures were had. College was finished. An awesome job was scored. I'm finishing up a huge chapter of my life today and my trust in God has strengthened immensely.

I could probably write pages and pages about the things I have learned, not only throughout this past year but throughout my entire life. I could go on and on about the people who have helped me become the person I am today. I could fill a book talking about the people that I love. But here's the thing: Whatever I learned, you probably already have or will learn in the future. And the people who have shaped my life? You already know who you are. But I'm not just thanking people and situations that have made my life easy and comfortable and loving. I'm thanking people and situations that have made life difficult for me. You know why? Because no matter how difficult life got, God pulled me through and changed me through it. I am grateful for the difficult times. They have made me more resilient. 

Whether 24 is filled with opportunities, hard life lessons, growing pains, adventures, love, or all of them... I welcome it. 

1 year-old me full of hope for the future. Either that or just gassy and/or hungry. I always make puppy dog eyes when I'm hungry.