"I'd be lost without you and Amir, truly." That was part of a Gmail chat I had with my sister less than two weeks before my brother died. And that's how I've been feeling these past 4 months since Amir died. Grief comes in waves and the sadness and emptiness roll in at seemingly random times, while other moments seem almost normal. I'll never be sure I'm navigating my grief correctly or even if I'm dealing with it the way that's best for me. I just go with how I feel, day to day.
I haven't posted anything here in a while, but I have been writing. I often post on Saturday mornings. That's by far the most difficult time for me, when my mind returns to the minute before I received that awful phone call. During the week, I'm kept busy with work and other commitments, but it's the weekends when I find myself struggling the most--just being home can be difficult at times.
Turning the calendar page to April a few days ago, I felt a pang of sadness, as April was Amir's birthday month and (to me) marks the true beginning of spring, a time of rebirth and renewal.
Tonight, I'll be celebrating Passover with my aunt and cousins, which will surely bring back memories. Amir was the youngest at our table for so many Brooklyn seders. He was the cutest little blond thing--sitting on pillows or phone books to reach the table. I love thinking of him and remembering him that way, though that's not the Amir I miss the most. It's who he was these past few years that will stay with me, as I think he would have wanted. He was a friend and confidant to me, as well as a joker and a playmate of sorts.
My thoughts are mostly incoherent today, but I wanted to mark this special month in some way. I may write more this weekend.