APRIL | showers, 2018
Well, a month ago I wrote about being okay with, or open to the experience of loss, and today, I wake up to a home so still, knowing that it will permanently be absent of Bradley, my companion, my zen master in teaching patience, and the soul that taught me what unconditional love was. It is oddly still. Even my thoughts seem to intrude like fog through a low-lying city, because they interrupt the emptiness that I sit in, remembering of pitter patters and little sniffs that once were.
When my mom passed, I was confused about a lot- our relationship, why it happened, was it on purpose, even? I had school to finish, I had foreseeable, intense personal goals to follow through on. I was angry that she had to go and that, to a small few that should have known her best and cared most, she was highly misunderstood. She was a catalyst for my optimum action. If she could breathe no longer, every sip of air in me was going to count. Every step, every speech, every motion was going to mean something -- further, that I was going to be someone that made us proud. In many ways, I look back and think of how powerful and fearless that girl, that version of me, was; how much I embodied and was aligned with my morals, unapologetically so. I felt whole and in touch in so many ways.
Though I’ve carried these lessons and ambitions in my bones, in recent months I feel as though I’ve dropped the day-to day living meditation of seeing the opportunity and blessings in each frame, each second of experience. I’ve been focused on “getting through,” be it to-do lists, days, events to get to “the important things,” which sometimes would be Bradley time, sometimes yoga time. The truth is, a lot of the time I’ve felt like I’ve been carrying one plate too many, but I regret that the plate that swiftly was swept out of my life was Bradley’s company. I knew it was coming at some point, but I honestly did not know that it would be this tough, this devastating. I am devastated. And in fact, a little scared. He humbled me. He showed me balance and boundaries, how to say “no, I have to be home now.” He taught me to take things as they come and reminded me to not stress the small stuff (even though I very much still do). If I have any regrets, they come as not taking my boundaries of space and time that I need in this time more seriously.
It’s strange not having to take a walk in the early morning or late night, (so strange, in fact, that I still will continue taking those precious moments of cool air in) before and after a long day. Despite taking in our final walks and outings with deep, unrivaled appreciation, I no longer get to say that I “have to” do these things with Brad anymore. It breaks my heart and has made me realize that my lens has been tending too much to the things I haven’t checked off the to-do list, the people I haven’t seen, the shows, museum, exhibits I didn’t get to -- rather than towards the experiences I have had-- the time I did spend accomplishing something.
Looking back at the me I was proud to represent-- the beach bum and culinary connoisseur who craves nourishment and connection with mother nature and loved ones; the fearless soul who wants to be alive, vibrating, in every moment-- I see someone that celebrated the things she had the opportunity and the chance to take part in; someone who would jot down the extra stuff she was able experience during the day at the bottom of her to-do list and say “great job today!” So in the name of Bradley, I am working on maintaining a holistic, expansive view as a life meditation, specifically, 1/ noticing all of the things I DO get to work on, 2/ being thankful for those moments, and 3/ slowing down and being able to speak to my inner self as strong and unique rather than nagging about what I am not or where I have yet to be.
For a while, I have been bearing-less in the name of freedom and learning new skills in different environments, but it’s time for me to get back on my path to live my truth, which, to some I know, can be annoyingly optimistic. Ultimately, you get back the energy you put in, and if you’re focused on what you are lacking -- what you miss -- you’ll only continue to miss out on more and even desire or lust after more. I am committing to embracing the uncomfortable and taking one step at a time, just like Brad, and knowing that I get to rather than have to experience the world in its chaos and beauty with those around me. Cheers to you Brad! Thank you for walking this road with me for as long as you did.
