Today was the day the music died in 1959 (I believe I have the correct year).

I learned that today listening to the radio.  I don’t normally listen to the radio but I had to go to the chiropractor this afternoon.  And I listen to SiriusXM in the Jeep.

It seems strange that a year ago, we lost Alan.  So much has changed. Everything feels different; in so many ways, everything is different than just a year ago.  Time is fickle like that. Global pandemics will do that, I guess.

Life goes on, but when you lose someone who is part of you, the way Alan was part of John, that emptiness is never fully healed.  You just learn to exist with it.

Sometimes I feel the loss of my mother so acutely it takes the breath right out of my lungs.  I wonder how I have managed to go on without her for over two years.  I wonder how I can still be me … without her.

The truth?  I am not still me — not the one who existed up until December 30, 2018.  Just like John is not the same John who existed until February 3, 2020.  That’s the way of things.  That’s life and time and grief and loss.

xox, g