As we approach the one-year mark since Amir's death, I am finding it harder to cope with the loss. Perhaps it's because I miss him more as time goes on or because I reflect back on the mind-numbing shock of receiving that horrible phone call. Or because his death has changed my life in nearly every way imaginable and I struggle to look forward to a future without him in it. Fall is by far my favorite season, but this year it is so tinged with loss and longing that I'm filled with dread for the weeks to come. First, my wedding anniversary is this Sunday and I'm not sure how I will commemorate that sweet, happy day, which also was my late mother-in-law's birthday.
I turned 44 a few weeks ago, a day filled with longing for Jason and the way he always made my birthday special. But marking that occasion was also painful as I consider the possibility of living as many years without Amir as I did with him. Not that I don't aspire to live a long life, but I struggle to imagine all those years ahead without him (and Jason, in a different way).
After feeling numb for much of the past 11 months, I've become more sad these past few weeks. Who said grief was supposed to get easier?!? Shortly after Amir died, I began to feel a strong urge to do something more meaningful with my life, which I'm sure is a common feeling for those who lose a loved one at an early age. But, in those early days, my job was a great comfort. Going to work each day, keeping busy with projects and being among my kind coworkers helped me cope with my grief. My job also provided a lot of comfort in the first few weeks after Jason died--I needed to be in my routine in order to feel "normal" (whatever the fuck that means anymore).
But, almost suddenly, over the past few weeks, I have felt an overwhelming indifference toward my job and my routine. I just don't give two fucks for anything but my immediate family and friends. Much as I like my job, I am growing ever more intolerant of staring at three cubicle walls all day and performing my regular job tasks. Everything feels so meaningless and futile. I ache to escape the tedium of that 9-5 routine in which I have always thrived.
So, now that I've decided my job is meaningless and I can no longer stomach the daily grind, WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO? I'm not naïve enough to think I can find a way to change the world. I just want so badly to do something that honors these two beautiful souls--my brother and my husband--who did not get the chance to accomplish or contribute what they wanted or to live their lives in ways that made them proud and happy. I'm sad for us having to live without them, but I'm also overwhelmingly sad for them, for all the things they will miss out on, for all the years they should have had ahead of them.