Next week, the date "April 8" will appear on a calendar for the sixth time since Micah died in 2009. With the sixth year of Micah's anniversary comes the sixth year of this blog.
I began as an 18-year-old trying to make sense of a loss so deep that the world itself seemed to drop out beneath me. Now, I live in that "future without Micah" that was so dark, so unbelievable, and so dreaded to me back then. But day by day for the last six years, that "future" has become my present. My life still unfolds before me with many uncertainties, and I now know much more about the multi-dimensional losses and injustices that make up life. But I am happy, stable, and dream of new things everyday to write or create or discover or love.
Every year or so---usually during these chill April beginnings, when Holy Week reminds me of my own loss to come---my wind wanders back to this blog and I flip to page one. I reread every single post. I find words capturing sadness and pain and yet words that still aren't big enough for the canyon of loss. It hurts. I want to hold my young self and tell her she will be okay, but I can't because I know she has to Go Through It. I know that the Going is what creates the Healing.
This post will be my last post here on Tear Soup. My end here is not a bookend, but rather a mark of the past six years and the outward way I've processed Micah's death. Now, this processing is deeper inside of me. It's like holding a stone in my pocket that only I know about; I can hold its warmth or grasp it when I choose to do so. Now I have more control of my narrative. But I know I'll never lose it.
I'm glad these posts exist because they were heartfelt and real and essential to my processing. I'm glad that many "widowed-girlfriends" have found this and sought solidarity in my words. And I'm very much grateful to the readers who have supported me in various ways.
I promise to keep this page up and will be in touch if I find another platform for my writing.
I dedicate the closure of this blog, of course, to the person who brought me here in the beginning. The person who could make me laugh in a heartbeat, who was wildly compassionate and curious, who was stubborn and gentle all at once, who loved and was loved by his wonderful parents-brothers-grandparents-cousins, who I will remember and love forever because how could I not? Micah:
living memory
I carry you with me into the world,
into the smell of rain
& words that dance between people
into the smell of rain
& words that dance between people
& for me, it will
always be this way,
walking in the light,
remembering being alive
together.
Becca
