Lately.

Lately I have been sadder than words can express. I'm positive that the phrase "time will help" is a lie. Time does not help. The only thing time does is make everything more real, which ultimately makes it feel worse...
It is feeling real that Micah is not here...more real than before. I went college shopping today and it made me feel devastated. My mom and I cried together the whole way home.

I went to the library yesterday and I laughed at myself because I practically rented out the whole "grief" section...(I wonder what the poor librarian was thinking.) I've got one book down and 10 or so more to go...hopefully I'll find some things to be helpful.

I found this poem a couple months ago in a book. Despite its simplicity it says a lot...
"Separation" by W.S. Merwin:

Your absence has gone through me

Like thread through a needle.

Everything I do is stitched with its color.

Now that April feels decades away, I'm feeling myself thinking less about the actual accident and death, and more about Micah's absence. The details of the funeral and hospital seem to be fading in my memory; but nothing can ever possibly subdue the feeling of not having him here. It is the biggest, gaping hole. I would give absolutely anything to hear his laugh or see his smile...even a quick glimpse from 500 feet away might be sufficient. When he was alive I would miss him tremendously if he was just away for a weekend--so this feels like a piece of me has been literally ripped from my heart.

Some days, I'll just be wandering around my house and I'll get the biggest craving ever for a Micah hug. He was an expert on bear hugs--a.k.a. squeezing me so hard I couldn't breath and I'd have to practically wheeze "stop!" (Gosh, I even miss those.) His normal hugs were perfect as well--we always talked about how our height ratio was perfect, because my head fit perfectly on his shoulder.

Not like his hugs are the only thing I miss. That is only one thing on the list of 2937495084523. But then again, there are 2937495084523 reasons I love him...so naturally I expect that list to be long, if not endless. :-)

Cleaning my room.

I did something monumental today--I cleaned my room.

You must understand that this indeed is very, very monumental; as my family will agree. Keeping my room clean is something I have never done, ever. I am a pack rat, and disorganized, and a little lazy to top it all off...so basically my room has a history of never seeing the floor. When Micah died, this became even worse. I hated moving anything in my room because that meant changing how Micah last saw it, and changing how the "old" Becca last lived. It was like a sacred archaeological site I didn't dare touch. This also became very convenient because since April I have slept in one room with my sisters, and I didn't need to keep clean/change my room, because I wasn't living in it. And thus it became a sacred place where I could go and cry and be alone, even though I was basically sitting on top of 3 months worth of dirty laundry and clutter.

But...for some reason I spent this afternoon completely cleaning it. I guess I realized that I had to do it sometime, especially with college approaching. Also, an image of Micah popped into my head...him looking me straight in the eye and saying, "Seriously Becca. Just cause I died doesn't mean you can live like a filthy pig." So maybe it was Micah that kicked some common sense into me.

I found many things on my cleaning adventure.
(One of them was the floor--that was really nice to be able to walk again.)
I picked up clothes...pajama pants I wore in the hospital. The sweatshirt I wore the first night; that I don't dare to wash. The shirt I wore to the funeral.
I picked up flower petals, long wilted, that had fallen onto the carpet--that first week my mom had put a vase on my desk, to bring desperate happiness.
I picked up used tissues that were scattered everywhere, all over. I put them in one pile, and together they formed a giant stack that was probably half a foot high.
I found reminders of his absences, that brought pain rushing back--my banquet dress box...a letter from EMU...the funeral program that I shoved away because it was too hard to look at.

Though luckily I also found some happy things, and those kept me going.
Like how every piece of clothing in my closet, I could basically associate a memory of Micah with. (I wore this shirt on my first date...and this sweater in Munich...and this was the shirt we bought together in Lititz...Micah wore this shirt once and it took him forever to return...Micah said I looked pretty in this...)
I found several notes Micah had once written to me, that I had forgotten about. Those were fun to discover and read. It was like a little personal surprise from him. They made me smile a lot.
I found the scavenger hunt notebook Micah had mapped out for me, when he asked me to banquet last year.
I found some notes from a class in school we had together; and half the page consists of our boredom doodles and tic-tac-toe.
I found a pair of socks Micah claimed were "his," which I argued strongly against because I was sure they were mine--and every time I wore them I would taunt them in his face because I still had possession of them.
I found one of my school pictures, clearly not one of my best ones, that Micah found once and laughed at for 5 minutes because he thought I looked hilarious.

...and the memories go on. It's sad to know my room has changed; but like I said before, I don't see why Micah would have wanted it to stay like that. The memories far outweigh the sadness of cleaning.

Tomorrow I'm volunteering at Camp Ladybug, a camp for adults and children with physical/mental disabilities. I am excited. This is something I've been wanting to do for myself, but also for Micah. I can remember how excited he was to work with some special-needs campers at Camp Hebron; and how he connected so deeply with them. I think he would smile knowing I am doing this, and I also think he would want to see me smile as well.

3 months.

I woke up this morning to the phrase "3 months" running through my head over and over again. I put my blanket over my head and squeezed my eyes together and laid there in bed for a good 10 minutes. (As if that would somehow make the morning come slower and ultimately delay the day.) But I soon found out that was impossible, because the sun slowly rose and birds began to chirp, and I realized that the rest of the world was continuing, so I might as well try.

Today marks 3 months.
These past days have been especially difficult, because this month they land perfectly on each of the "original" days. Meaning that the day of the accident (the 6th[though technically it was past midnight]), the "in-between life and death day" (the 7th), and the day of his death (the 8th) have all lined up on Monday-Wednesday. This has made me relive everything in detail, and my mind wanders back to where and what I was doing exactly--even down to what I was wearing. It feels so fresh and so new, even 91 days later. I can even still feel that terrible feeling of utter helplessness; my heart beating (practically hyperventilating) and my hands shaking, trying to hold onto something in my spinning world but finding nothing; so scared and so tiny and so paralyzed. Those feelings come back instantly, as do smells of the hospital and memories of doctors' faces.

Monday was especially hard. I sat in my room and just thought how 3 months ago that day, I was innocently sitting at school; in some classes even sitting next to Micah. I just can't believe how I casually said goodbye to Micah, came home, did homework, and innocently went to bed. I can't believe how I had no idea that I would soon be woken up by my dad and everything would change so quickly.

I wish I could have warned that naive Becca about what was to come. I try not to spend much time thinking how the accident could have been prevented--(I just don't let myself go there because I know it turns into a cycle)--but I do sometimes wish I could somehow let myself know what was to come. Maybe if my current Becca could have sent just one teensy warning flag to the Becca-of-the-past that night...would that have made things easier? Would it have made this 3 month anniversary and other anniversaries to come a little more bearable, just because we would have known?

Oh, but maybe not. Maybe knowing all along what was to come would have been worse. Maybe its just going to be terrible no matter what; and I'm thinking in circles and forgetting that either way Micah is not here, and THAT right there is what's wrong and will always be wrong.

Micah Micah Micah. I miss you so much. I think of all the things we could have done in these 3 months, but instead I am listing things we haven't done. Musical, banquet, the last day of school, graduation, convention...spending all summer together. Doing the random things that brought us so much joy; though in the end it was just the fact that we were doing them together. Stargazing and going to the beach and watching 4th of July fireworks and talking on the phone and holding hands and hanging out with your family and going shopping and catching fireflies and laughing and loving. You are supposed to be here soaking in the quietness of this summer night. You are supposed to be sleeping in your bed right now with the night air blowing around your attic room and the crickets chirping outside. We are supposed to be doing all these summer things together.

But you are not here. I know you are here somewhere; maybe you are around me; or maybe you are now within beauty and love and happiness, and you cannot ever truly leave unless they do--but that is not as fulfilling sometimes as just plain "here." I think you know that I have been taking what you've taught me, and using it in my own life to somehow continue to "live"...but I also think that you'd understand that on days like today, on anniversaries, its extra ok to cry and be sad that you are not here.