Time

Yesterday was three months that you were gone. 

Three months. 

How can it only be three months? And yet, where did those three months go?

Time is something I'm struggling with. I have always been aware of time. As a history major, I know how time defines our lives, our society, and the world we live in. Time is to be respected, noted, and appreciated because you only live in one speck of the continuum of time, and it flies by before you know it. In that speck of time, you must decide how to make the most of it. How will you leave your mark on history? What will you contribute to your community, society, and your loved ones in that small very split second of time that you live in? 

Would it be ironic that I've always asked myself these questions, and yet, how they can be so perfectly applied to losing my brother? 

So back to time. and my struggles. I have NEVER in my life been so completely confused by time. Aware of it, yes. Valuing it, yes. But stuck in a continuous time warp of not knowing where I am or what day it is? Not knowing how many weeks its been since, yet, subconsciously counting the days in my head regardless? Can't believe how fast time has flown by, but yet, feeling stuck in time? Good grief, I'm so lost in this thing we call time now. And I was always on top it. I was always the looking forward to, marking it down on my calendar, countdown kinda girl. Yet I always knew not to look forward to everything, because then you are wishing away the time you have in the present. I almost prided myself on this respect and view of time.

But after my brother, oh good grief, I've lost my bearing on time. Time manipulates me. Time eludes me. Time confuses me. Time sneaks by me, and time makes me stand still in it. How can it do both things at once? I will never know. And I suppose only those who have been through what I have will understand this phenomenon. 

Let me try to sum up the past three months in terms of my grief:

Month 0-1: Complete and utter shock, mixed in with moments of gut wrenching despair. Time was at a stand still during this first month.

Month 1-2: Alot of "unfeeling" during this month. I felt bad for not feeling bad enough. I didn't have much emotions during this time. It was during this month that time flew by. 

Month 2-3: Shock has worn off. Still battle with denial at times. But the awareness that my brother is physically gone from this earth is here, like a bitter cold wave, sucking me under water, so long at times, I feel like I won't ever have the last breath of fresh air again. And when that wave is gone, it spits me up on the beach, like a rag doll, tossed and trashed and broken. It uses and loses me. Then I slowly pick myself up, fix my clothes, toss the sand out of my hair, and place one foot in front of another. Looking and walking toward the sunrise, for the only beautiful thing in my sight until another harsh wave takes me again. But its those moments of walking into the sunrise that keep me going, rather than completely caving in to the waves and never coming back up. Time is conflicting: it flies by, yet doesn't go anywhere. Time is a blur, to put it simply. 

Evan Scott Poteet, you have been gone three months now, and with every passing day, I miss you more and more. Sometimes that miss, which is just an emotion for some people, but that miss presents itself physically in my body. That miss, which I can physically feel, spreads achy feelings throughout the very core of my body and can be so overwhelming that it literally takes my breath away. Words are not enough to explain how much I wish I could see you again. I love you. Forever and always. <3