Well. Today is a hard day.
It’s one year since Steve passed away. One whole year…and it seems like yesterday. It seems like yesterday when he called me from his car in the parking garage, afraid he’d just had a stroke because he couldn't move his right arm or speak.
I was terrified then that it was the beginning of the end and devastated to find out I was right. It all happened so fast afterwards that it took a long time to process. And although I've made a lot of progress over this past year, in some ways, I still don’t think I've really processed or accepted everything.
I still can’t bring myself to delete his email address from my contacts or take his number off my speed dial. I haven’t closed the estate; we haven’t finished going through all his things and deciding what to do with it all. I remember this from when my mom died…to take something of his and give it a new home, to remove it from its rightful place in his home is an acknowledgement that he won’t be coming back.
I’m stuck in this place where I know he’s gone but it’s difficult for me to take the next steps. I know it’s part of the process and takes time.
And it’s not as if my whole life has been on hold – how could it be with a growing boy in my life? My son was 7 months old then…not even walking yet. Now he’s a running, climbing, babbling 19 month old dynamo that keeps his dad and me hopping. He is our light and has brought us so much happiness, especially on the hard days.
And we had Christmas and birthdays and bought a new house and the world kept on and so did we. Just with a big hole that will take a long while to fill.
I miss his voice and his laugh and his presence. I miss having entire conversations in movie quotes. I miss making him dinner and how much he appreciated a home-cooked meal. I miss playing Clue or trivia or poker or just sitting around not doing much of anything.
I am so very sad that Monkey will never know his Uncle Steve. I am so glad that Steve got to know him for the short time he did. I think all the time about what a wonderful uncle he would have been.
I am also sad for me and the person I lost. He wasn’t just a brother to me. He was a best friend and someone I looked to for guidance and grounding. He was a beacon for me, a rock. And above all, for my entire life, I knew that he would always look out for me and be there to take care of me when I needed him.
It’s a hard day today, but I’m thankful to have had Steve as a brother and to have been so close to him. I’m glad I was able to be there for him when he needed me.
I miss you with all my heart, T.B. Cott. I wish you were here.