two thousand + nine. over ‘n out

gavi – looking very much like his grandpa dan

listening to:  teitur – don’t want you to wake up

it’s snowing outside. as much as i hate the snow – i can’t help but love when it falls during the day. the sky is white and we’re covered in quiet.
it’s another holiday. another new year - we’ll be welcoming in twenty-ten tonight. as much as i love the new fresh start – i can’t help but feel the quiet ache that i’ve felt every year for the past ten.
i miss him, man.
and it feels heavy today.
ten years ago tonight was the catapult that launched me into what i like to call the great depression of the year two thousand. it changed me. deep. i think it changed all of us. it isn’t spoken of – but i recognize the difference in each of us. the realization that this family of ours is fragile. that the who-stays-and-who-goes part isn’t up to us. and not just in death but in life also. the coming and going of people that we love. the needle at which we gauge how much of ourselves we give away is harder to read.
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while doing some christmas shopping last month i was hustling and bustling at the good ‘ol columbia center. no boys. just me and i was happy with bags in hand. on my way out of the macy’s men store the guy standing by the doors slipped me a cologne sample. i shoved it in my pocket and made my way into the main hall of the mall before i could really smell it.
polo.
and all of a sudden he was everywhere. the tears were streaming and i couldn’t get to my car fast enough.
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my cousins danny + brandon were here for a minute the other day. really – a minute. and we were sitting in my living room just visiting – these boys i hardly know in real life. there was this powerful connection that i felt deep for them and the years that had passed  so quickly in the giant scheme of us belonging to eachother. i am grateful for a man that taught us to recognize that we are connected. that this means something important. a quick little reminder that we should take better care of eachother.
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tonight there will be tradition. there will be crackers and cheese and puzzles and sparkly apple juice. there will be resolutions made  and a countdown said. there will be a new fresh year. a new fresh decade. and i feel like leaving the heavy behind. like there’s going to be an important shift when the clock hits midnight tonight. hoping the ache will feel lighter in twenty-ten. that the grieving will be a different kind.
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“that the reason we miss people is because we love so much.” – amy

love, lindsay ann