there aren't enough cliches for this

it's been a year. a year today. 366 days ago i had to make the decision to take you off your breathing support. it took about 24 hours for you to physically leave the planet. 

i think of you [and frankly many others] almost daily.

i see the stuff i walked down the street from your house to mine and it reminds me of the way you laughed. the obsession we shared for beauty. the meticulousness with which you curated. 

i am still legally wrapping up all the loose ends.

i have learned a lot about the mechanics behind the scenes of death. i remember making calls trying to find a crematorium to use that could get you, didn't cost 3x more than another, and didn't offer these hokey "full luxury" packages of boat trips and fancy urns. is it a surprise that someone might try to upsell you in a time of grief? nope. is it nonetheless weird? yup. 

this isn't the first time i've gone through people's things, but it's the first time i've dealt with it on my own. 

is it wrong that in somewhere in the corner of my mind i'm thinking this will make it easier the next time i have to do this? how do i make this easier for my child? less stuff. i definitely need less stuff [but know this is almost impossible to achieve]. 

i watched the marc maron special on netflix and spit laughed when he talked about the contingent of people who send a year of magical thinking when you are dealing with grief. i am that person. i've sent it to several. i almost reread it. but i couldn't quite. i realized i can't really internalize didion's grief again. it was helpful many moons ago when i read it on a plane in one sitting in grief. now i know enough and have done it enough to not use that bandaid. this time i'm giving it air. 

the thing about getting older is you have to just accept that death is closer. it's closer for you. it's closer for those you love. and if you are lucky you actually accumulate these notches of grief on your belt. the grief means there was love. love for many pets. love for many people. the loss stings, but then at some point the loss switches from sharp pain to ache to a fondness for the memories and appreciation. 

is this a consolation? on good days yes. i mean i'd rather have the love in my life to feel the loss. and the good thing is that perspective kind of makes you just laugh at the absurdity of all the things in life that go wrong. there is no rhyme or reason as to why some installation dude broke my cold water washer valve and didn't tell me. or why they delivered a brand new washing machine that didn't work out of the box. or why the plumber made the problem worse before fixing it 4 hours later with our water off [such first world problems]. or why customer service on the phone is so absolutely terrible at best buy [but shout out to the manager of my local store]. or how if i hadn't called AGAIN AND AGAIN they wouldn't have actually submitted the claim for my plumbing bill - that was totally their fault. one they submitted but with an error and didn't bother to tell me that that hadn't worked either until i called to follow up. you can't help but think they were hoping it was a waiting game and that me and my claim would give up and disappear.

so yeah. that stuff. it still bothers me and i still yell and do my best karen impersonation but i also laugh. and i also think of how you in particular always said - don't make lisa mad. you don't want to mess with her when she is.