I miss you, my friend. It has been almost two years now since you’ve been gone. I wrote to you on your birthday, so I guess it makes sense to write as the the anniversary of your death approaches as well.
That two years have been a roller coaster, to say the very least. The first year I thought I had it together. I was just starting to integrate myself back into the world and participate in real life again. The anniversary of your death wasn’t too bad.
This year, as it approaches, I feel like I am on a burning rollercoaster and I can’t get off. I was just telling Nathan about this feeling, and that I wanted off the ride.
My tattoo is almost done. It has been a year long project, and there is a lot of emotion attached to that. I look at it every single day and I think about you. It is a source of motivation for me. Yet I look at the dates inked into my arm and I just cry as the second one approaches.
I find wanting to participate in life very difficult right now. Facebook memories are destroying me every single day. Each and every day I see the memories from two years ago. What should all be wonderful and happy memories. Usually when I think about them, they are happy memories. But seeing them daily is like a countdown clock to seeing my entire life ripped apart in one single night.
I’ve completely buried myself in my work, and I wish you were here to see it. So I could text you about my accomplishments and the great things that are happening. Sadly, I know I wouldn’t be where I am right now if you were still alive. I’m quite sure that you are still proud of me, and I hear you say it often. Which makes me cry. I hear you in my head even now, after two years without you.
Every time I look at my tattoo, it motivates me to be the best. Working extremely hard to make my blog and my business something amazing. When you died, you gave me my life back. I owe it to you to use that gift wisely and not waste it. You are the biggest reason I push myself so hard. I can’t allow your death to be in vain, and that is why failure is not an option for me.
So I suppose I should tell you about work. My blog is almost a year old. I originally started last June with blogging, but my original venture was a failure, but I gained a lot of knowledge from it. It was October when I started The Prepping Wife. That has been my little corner of the internet since then, and I absolutely love it. I can’t see myself doing anything else now.
I just launched my very own product line related to emergency preparedness. That is the one thing I regret not being into when you were alive. Because I know you would have taught me a ton about that stuff. You were the kind of person who could disappear into the woods and survive without ever leaving a trace or being found. A survivalist is definitely what you were.
My next venture will be publishing a series of cookbooks, and that is a really exciting for me. Tons of work, but still very exciting to be working on right now. Speaking of my recipes, I made salsa yesterday and thought of you. It was something you loved, and I take a lot of pride in making because it makes me think of you. Nathan loves it as well, telling anyone who will listen about it when the conversation turns to food.
Nathan is a pain in my booty, as always. But I say that in a very loving way. He really is pretty amazing, and always surprises me with how understanding and compassionate he is. I remember once you told me to trust him with my feelings, and that he might surprise me. When you died, I had no clue how to explain to him the horror I faced that night. Yet I could hear you in my head telling me to trust him. That is exactly what I did, and I have so many times since then.
Since you’ve been gone, I’ve learned to trust several people more with my feelings. I’ve finally surrounded myself with the right people, where I can really be myself and express my feelings. This is something that always astounds me. Mostly because I hadn’t experienced that before, and always felt the need to be guarded.
I hid my emotions with hostility and sarcasm. I still speak my mind and I’ve found my voice again. Every time I get ready to say something I know will be unpopular, I look at my arm and know I’m about to make you proud. Yet, I don’t cover anything up now. I am very much myself and there is no real anger or hostility. I have definitely changed how I say things. Being able to speak my mind without doing it in a hostile way takes patience and skill.
I feel much the same way about people who have done me wrong. There’s no anger anymore, because I feel like it made me stronger. I no longer fight to keep people in my life. Having them walk out, or kicking them out myself is kind of amazing. I say that in the sense that, I’ve lost everything already when I lost you. Yet here I stand. I stand strong, successful, and happy. If people want to walk out of my life, I’ll gladly hold the door open for them. Losing them isn’t a loss for me anymore. Instead it is freeing.
I have you to thank for that. Thinking back, I remember one time you asked me where I’d lost my voice. Because I would always say what was on my mind, and in that situation I wasn’t. After I lost you, I realized just how much I really lost my voice. Gaining that back was a pretty powerful moment for me.
Looking back on the time since you’ve been gone is difficult because I see so much pain, drama, and loss. I walked through hell, and I came out standing strong. It is astounding how much I’ve changed in the time since you’ve been gone. I am not remotely close to the same person, and I love that about myself. Because I am turning into the best version of me that I can be. Many times I wish you were here to see that transformation though.
I still miss you every single day of my life. Yet I know you walk with me every day too. Grief is a rough thing, and this year seems even worse than before. All I can say is thank you. Thank you for being such an amazing part of my life when you were alive, and thank you for everything you’ve given me in death as well. I will always strive to make you proud of me.