Next week is the 9-month anniversary of the worse kind of 'anniversaries': Matthew's death. Since then, my life has been in a strange place. In many ways, I have this floating sensation, like I'm not really here. Part of me doesn't believe he is gone. I still have not deleted his number or email address from my phone. I keep his business card with all the other cards I have, as if I am going to need it for some reason. And I live with regret. Two months before he died, he wanted to meet in Boone for lunch. "Too far", I complained. I said I would see him next time. That time never came. We talked on the phone all the time, but had a stupid fight on Facebook right after the election. We never spoke again. I cannot express how awful that feels. My brother could be an arrogant know-it-all, but we rather enjoyed each other, and I miss that.
Losing him impacted me in a profound way. Who am I? Is this the life I really want? Am I happy? I have a long way to go before I find the answers to these questions. Before that, I have to get through a few of the worst kinds of anniversaries.
