One Year Later
August 24, 2024
The bomb went off at 1:11 a.m., Pacific time on August 24, 2023.
In one moment, one day’s devastation suddenly outweighed
the previous almost fifteen thousand days of Jason’s life.
A hole was blasted in many lives;
a hole we all knew would always be there.
We cried enough tears to fill it in.
But the hole remained.
In the days following,
just when we thought we might catch our breath,
it was taken away again. And again.
In one moment, one day’s devastation suddenly outweighed
the previous almost fifteen thousand days of Jason’s life.
A hole was blasted in many lives;
a hole we all knew would always be there.
We cried enough tears to fill it in.
But the hole remained.
In the days following,
just when we thought we might catch our breath,
it was taken away again. And again.
August 24, 2024
One year later.
Jason is still at the center of a large circle of family and friends.
Each one in that circle is surely in a different place today than they were one year ago.
I cannot speak for them, only myself.
This one year now past has been filled with too many painful firsts:
Sarah’s birthday, Thanksgiving & Christmas, Nora’s birthday, Jack’s birthday, Mother’s Day, a wedding anniversary, Father’s Day, Jason’s 41st birthday, as well as many other days that were special in one way or another to someone. Those were the anticipated tough days, the days when grief’s grip was expected to be tight. And it usually was.
And then there were the surprise grief attacks. Hearing an Aerosmith song, seeing the number 28. Surfing the channels and landing on Wayne’s World, or Happy Gilmore. Starting to play the theme music from Jurassic Park at band rehearsal but having to stop because I could no longer see the music through my tears.
The hole that was burned in my heart a year ago has healed some. The edges of that hole are not as raw as they were before. But the hole will never not be there.
And now, one year out from the worst day of my life, I know that there is important work to be done: to remember that while this one year was a hard one, and maybe the hardest one, there were forty other years that needed to be honored.
And that is the work that must begin today, if it hasn’t already.
One year later.
Jason is still at the center of a large circle of family and friends.
Each one in that circle is surely in a different place today than they were one year ago.
I cannot speak for them, only myself.
This one year now past has been filled with too many painful firsts:
Sarah’s birthday, Thanksgiving & Christmas, Nora’s birthday, Jack’s birthday, Mother’s Day, a wedding anniversary, Father’s Day, Jason’s 41st birthday, as well as many other days that were special in one way or another to someone. Those were the anticipated tough days, the days when grief’s grip was expected to be tight. And it usually was.
And then there were the surprise grief attacks. Hearing an Aerosmith song, seeing the number 28. Surfing the channels and landing on Wayne’s World, or Happy Gilmore. Starting to play the theme music from Jurassic Park at band rehearsal but having to stop because I could no longer see the music through my tears.
The hole that was burned in my heart a year ago has healed some. The edges of that hole are not as raw as they were before. But the hole will never not be there.
And now, one year out from the worst day of my life, I know that there is important work to be done: to remember that while this one year was a hard one, and maybe the hardest one, there were forty other years that needed to be honored.
And that is the work that must begin today, if it hasn’t already.
The work ahead is to take time, to make time, to remember and celebrate that in the forty years previous to this one hardest year, and that one terrible day, there are so many reasons for gratitude, for smiles and laughs, and for tears, not of sadness, but of joy. So that, in time, the weight of all Jason was to so many people, all that he did for his family and his friends, all of his adventures and misadventures, his victories and setbacks, his joys and sorrows, his smile, his laughter, his big heart – so that in time the immense weight of all that was good about him and the good he accomplished will surely and completely outweigh the weight of that one dark day and this one tough year.
I wrote the section above as my way of honoring the first anniversary of Jason's death.
Below are some words and images that I have found meaningful during the past year.
Below are some words and images that I have found meaningful during the past year.
i don’t want to tell you
when they died.
if it wasn’t yesterday
will you expect me
to be less broken.
if you know it’s been
a month. year. decade.
if it was a lifetime ago.
will you expect my grief
to be a whisper
and no longer
a scream.
--sara rian
when they died.
if it wasn’t yesterday
will you expect me
to be less broken.
if you know it’s been
a month. year. decade.
if it was a lifetime ago.
will you expect my grief
to be a whisper
and no longer
a scream.
--sara rian
You can’t heal the people you love.
You can’t make choices for them.
You can’t rescue them.
You can promise that they
won’t journey alone.
You can loan them your map.
But the trip is theirs.
--Laura Jean Truman
You can’t make choices for them.
You can’t rescue them.
You can promise that they
won’t journey alone.
You can loan them your map.
But the trip is theirs.
--Laura Jean Truman
THAT DAY
Right in the middle of our life, on an ordinary day, the unthinkable happened. Everything went from ordinary to chaotic and there I stood, in the mess of it all, knowing there will be forever be a before and after.
That day.
--Sharyn Marsh
Right in the middle of our life, on an ordinary day, the unthinkable happened. Everything went from ordinary to chaotic and there I stood, in the mess of it all, knowing there will be forever be a before and after.
That day.
--Sharyn Marsh
Loving the gone
i was dragged into a new chapter that day.
one that started when your life ended.
i grabbed at the previous pages
but life ripped them away.
new chapters have come
and many of them good.
but i still find myself
wanting to go back.
to stay with you.
bookmarked.
in the part of my life
where you are still living.
--sara rian
i was dragged into a new chapter that day.
one that started when your life ended.
i grabbed at the previous pages
but life ripped them away.
new chapters have come
and many of them good.
but i still find myself
wanting to go back.
to stay with you.
bookmarked.
in the part of my life
where you are still living.
--sara rian
You gotta resurrect the deep pain within you and give it a place to live that’s not within your body.
Let it live in art. Let it live in writing. Let it live in music. Let it be devoured by building brighter connections.
Your body is not a coffin for pain to be buried in. Put it somewhere else.
Let it live in art. Let it live in writing. Let it live in music. Let it be devoured by building brighter connections.
Your body is not a coffin for pain to be buried in. Put it somewhere else.
WHEN I GO
When I go
don’t learn to live without me
just learn to live with my love
in a different way.
And if you need to see me
close your eyes
or look in your shadow
when the sun shines.
I’m there.
Sit with me in the quiet and you will know
that i did not leave.
There is no leaving when a soul is blended
with another.
When I go
don’t learn to live without me
just learn to look for me in the moments.
I will be there.
When I go
don’t learn to live without me
just learn to live with my love
in a different way.
And if you need to see me
close your eyes
or look in your shadow
when the sun shines.
I’m there.
Sit with me in the quiet and you will know
that i did not leave.
There is no leaving when a soul is blended
with another.
When I go
don’t learn to live without me
just learn to look for me in the moments.
I will be there.
