Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Two years

It's May 21st again. Two years since Kol died. Almost four years since we took Kol to the ER. And like last year, we spent the day together as a family (except for a couple piano lessons that we couldn't reschedule). We watched Star Wars while eating Kraft Dinner and wieners for lunch. We went out to his grave, wrote messages to him on helium balloons (green of course - not his favourite lime green, but as close as we could find in town), and had a picnic supper. We watched more Star Wars after we came back home. And we cried.

I think in many ways, the second year has been harder than the first year, and many of our friends at Compassionate Friends say the same thing. And life is still changing for us. We're still getting used to being a family of six, not seven. We're still all dealing with emotional aftermath. But some days, it almost feels like things are getting better. Not a lot better, and not quickly, but a little bit now and then.

Julianna posted something to Facebook late last night (or early this morning, depending on how you look at it), and with her permission, I'll share it here with you:
For most people, today is just like any other day.
Wake up, shower, eat breakfast, go to work or school,
Come home, eat supper, go to bed.
To most people, it's just a Wednesday.
Middle of the week.
Nothing too special.
The month, May, doesn't matter too much, aside from implications of warm weather.
The date, the 21st, isn't much of a concern either,
Aside from its reminder that June is nearly here.
To almost everyone, it's just another day.
But not to me.
To me, it is Wednesday, May 21st.
To me, it is sadness and pain.
To me, it is grief and loss.
To me, it is memories and tears.
To me, it is an anniversary.
The two year anniversary of the end,
The end of hospitals and doctors,
The end of needles and tubes,
The end of nurses and drugs,
The end of sickness and suffering.
The end of life.
But it wasn't the end.
Not for me.
For me, it was a beginning.
The beginning if grief and sorrow.
The beginning of questions without answers.
The beginning of unstable emotions and bursts of tears.
The beginning of painful memories and inability to cope.
The beginning of a new life, but a life that feels wrong.
A life without you.
A life without your smile.
A life without your laugh.
A life without your jokes that made no sense, but still made me chuckle.
A life without your hugs.
A life without your competition in Star Wars trivia.
A life without seeing how proud you are because you beat a level on your video game.
A life without the sight of you on the couch with your nose in a book.
A life without your excitement over your new LEGO creation.
A life without lightsaber fights in the backyard.
A life without seeing your love, shining through your eyes and spreading over your whole face.
A life without my brother.
And I don't know how I made it this far
Without you.
I love you.
I love you so much.
I always have.
I always will.
Keep On Loving.
Kolbjorn Lloyd Obert Friggstad Sept 27, 2002-May 21, 2012
Thank you all for being with Kol and with us through this journey. It's been a long while since we last posted here, and I don't know how long it'll be until our next post, but thank you for being here, for reading this post, for remembering Kol, and for keeping our family in your thoughts and prayers. May God bless you all.