One year…

One year without you little brother, without your brand of…well, you being you.  One year of remembering everything you were, every silly prank you pulled, every sweet thing you did, every day you reminded me of how fully you lived your life.  I remember too when once you believed you couldn’t have a good life because of things like a seizure disorder, or those insane bloody noses.  Our Dad, our Mom, our Sister and I fought daily with whoever we had to to reassure you you could and would.  So eventually, you did.  You grew to be such a wonderful son, brother, husband, and father.

You touched so many lives just being yourself.  It’s so hard without you here because every day something reminds us all of the love, kindness, sarcasm, generosity, refreshing…wit that was all you.

Every day I try to remember all the happy times and treasure the little things we did, even if they annoyed me like the time you sang “The Song that has No End” for Eight hours, twenty-two minutes, and thirty seconds, to try to convince me to take you to get something when I had no gas, and if you gave me gas money, you wouldn’t have enough to get the thing you wanted.  It was one of the little things that made me realise what it would be like to be a parent, and that I might actually not suck at it.  My son is now the exact age you were when you did that to me.  I wonder when he’s going to open up his bag of “Uncles tricks for winning grownups over”.

Here’s a pic of the first day they met(he used to hate getting pictures taken):

World's Best Uncle

He really walked out the door with him. He did not want to put him down.

I was so overwhelmed at just how many people were so greatly affected by your passing, that I let it get away from me, my sorrow just held fast.

I’ve not been just idly moping, however. I was working.  I learned what happens when I discovered the smeghead that thought he was an interior decoratorgloriously idiotic genius…former property owner put flat primer over a high gloss wall…er, basically it meant tons of rage cleaning and deglazing painted surfaces to properly prime and paint rooms and decluttering others, trying to do something positive instead of dwelling on the grief.  It nearly worked, but for one tiny, yet important thing.  

My son reminded me of something I forgot that my Grandmother, his beloved G.G.O. had told me many times.  I forgot to take time for my family, let alone myself, so busy was I trying to run away from things like my sorrow and depression. 

It’s really selfish.  

Grief…well, the grief is normal, but covering the grief up by working myself exhausted and being upset at everything was not doing anyone any favours, especially for my wonderful son, who has tried his best to be a joy amidst all of this, especially since the last of the friends he’s made since moving here just moved away three weeks ago.  It’s a great disservice to everyone.  That ugly depression tried to pull a fast one, and nearly succeeded.  I owe him apology race cars, ice cream, and ice cream scented smellies I think, as well as as many hugs as he can stand, along with me giving him a marathon of some sort, be it gaming, silly TV shows, or kicking the soccer ball around.

To the folks who usually come here for perfume reviews, I’m sorry for the absence.  I have not been quite in the mood for the wide array of beautiful scents that I have gotten, as I would rather they be fair and accurate, and not layered with my sorrow.

I will return soon.


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