Back in mid-March, which now seems like at least a hundred years ago, Rick promised me he wouldn’t die in May or June. “May is my birth month,” he explained, “and June is yours, so don’t worry about me checking out during those two months.”
He made good on that promise, dying instead on the third of April.
Rick has joined an ever-increasing list of my nearest and dearest friends and family who are now “no longer with us.”
It’s still much too difficult to wrap my mind around that concept. If they’re not “here,” then where the hell are they? What has happened to their soul’s energy? And selfishly, I lament, “how could they have abandoned me to struggle on without them?”
Feeling sorry for myself, deeply grieving each loss and just managing to muddle along, I did a quick roll call. In the space of just over two years, my nearest and dearest: Alex, Aunt Jo, Mom, Bobby, Glenn, Big Bob, and now Rick, have all moved on, so to speak.
My support system is shrinking, and I’ve found few to fill the vacancies.
But maybe that’s as it should be—for who could ever “replace” any one of these fabulous people, both in my heart, and in this physical world?
Love and miss every one of you, every single day.