The calendar, a gift – each page a celebration of intellect and talent – from dream to design. Ideas turned into form. Genius I vaguely grasp. My mind moves to simpler things.
I flip through and find everyone acknowledged, birthdays dancing through the pages, but not his.
There’s no cause to celebrate. Only memories to forget – moments from which we move. I’m stunned. Weeks pass. The gift forgotten.
I had a good day today. I started out behind in a room filled with experts (at least by comparison). By day’s end, I’d outperformed the majority. My confidence exploded. A silent prayer made to continue to ride that wave.
Half the day gone by the time I walked out.
I looked at the calendar. A primal sound resolved into a moan. I lost track of the day.
Of all the days, this is the one I lose?
You – briefly erased from my calendar.
“You’re too hard on yourself.”
This is real.
Getting rushed through the rapids ready or not.
Hang in there. HUGS
Thank you. I greatly appreciate you.
I’d gone the whole day unaware of the date (my head filled from being in training all day), and suddenly I became very aware that it was Jay’s birthday, and I’d nearly forgotten. The whole thing took me aback.
A close friend once said, “Beth, most days you’ll be fine as you move further away from what happened, and then there will be something – a smell, a sound – something wholly unexpected that will just sucker punch you.” (Paraphrased – she expressed her thoughts much more eloquently, but that was the gist.)