Memories and Changes
It's been exactly a month since Michael died. I realized this approx. 12:15 a.m. this morning talking online with a friend. Wow. Time flies... and a month is a far way to see back.
I'm debating whether I feel better or worse now. I'm still in shock for the most part. I buy things that I normally wouldn't. I see a lot of things differently; in fact, I see the world differently.
It never occurred to me how prevalent suicide is in conversation. People joke about it all the time. "This homework makes me want to kill myself" and hand motions in class signifying you want to kill yourself during a boring lecture. It hits me differently now. It's not funny anymore; suicide is not a joke. It strikes a chord with me to see this, to watch the news and see it EVERYWHERE, yet no one is helping. People stand on the sidelines and shake their heads saying "That's a shame" when maybe they could have done something.
It makes me more aware of my world. It makes me remember to put on a happy face even if I'm in a bad mood, to pass on a smile when I don't want to smile myself and just to let people in my life know they are truly appreciated. I can't remember the last time I hugged Michael or told him I loved him; I'm very weird about my ways of affection. We DID have a stroll down memory lane that Wednesday night, and we laughed together... which is just what we did in life.
I bought something Sunday at the Broadway Flea Market that only we share. It's something everybody's seen, but we share in a special way. I was surprised to see it 3 years later, and I cried at its making an appearance so conveniently.
We went to a variety show last night showcasing shows by an up-and-coming musical theatre writer named Joe Iconis. There was a song of a man comtemplating suicide. I cried thinking that that's the way he felt; knowing that's the way he felt.
It's getting better. I definitely laugh more than I cry. I smile when I remember him or something we did every day.
I think this is the hardest thing I've ever done. This is the hardest part I have to play.
So, a month later... I still miss you, and the hurt is very real. I wish my dreams were reality when I think you're still alive, and I wish reality never happened.
Smile today, and remember a happy moment.
I'm debating whether I feel better or worse now. I'm still in shock for the most part. I buy things that I normally wouldn't. I see a lot of things differently; in fact, I see the world differently.
It never occurred to me how prevalent suicide is in conversation. People joke about it all the time. "This homework makes me want to kill myself" and hand motions in class signifying you want to kill yourself during a boring lecture. It hits me differently now. It's not funny anymore; suicide is not a joke. It strikes a chord with me to see this, to watch the news and see it EVERYWHERE, yet no one is helping. People stand on the sidelines and shake their heads saying "That's a shame" when maybe they could have done something.
It makes me more aware of my world. It makes me remember to put on a happy face even if I'm in a bad mood, to pass on a smile when I don't want to smile myself and just to let people in my life know they are truly appreciated. I can't remember the last time I hugged Michael or told him I loved him; I'm very weird about my ways of affection. We DID have a stroll down memory lane that Wednesday night, and we laughed together... which is just what we did in life.
I bought something Sunday at the Broadway Flea Market that only we share. It's something everybody's seen, but we share in a special way. I was surprised to see it 3 years later, and I cried at its making an appearance so conveniently.
We went to a variety show last night showcasing shows by an up-and-coming musical theatre writer named Joe Iconis. There was a song of a man comtemplating suicide. I cried thinking that that's the way he felt; knowing that's the way he felt.
It's getting better. I definitely laugh more than I cry. I smile when I remember him or something we did every day.
I think this is the hardest thing I've ever done. This is the hardest part I have to play.
So, a month later... I still miss you, and the hurt is very real. I wish my dreams were reality when I think you're still alive, and I wish reality never happened.
Smile today, and remember a happy moment.