It’s been one month since you left us.
One month. 30 days. 720 hours. 43,200 minutes.
I like the bigger numbers better, because that’s how it feels to me. Each minute and day stretches on and on, a lifetime in those passing hands, and yet gone so quickly. Like you.
44 years on this earth.
44 years, and you traveled the world. You married twice, had 4 children, 1 grandson and 1 granddaughter on the way.
You were fluent in Chinese and fluent in being radiant. A big beacon of brightness.
You didn’t smoke or drink. You tried both, didn’t like either. Work was your vice.
44 years and you crammed so much in. A lifetime in a decade, a decade in an hour.
I miss you so much.
Sometimes I think my heart will explode from the pain of losing you.
I don’t feel whole anymore and I’m struggling to figure it out and see how to create a new me, with your presence being spiritual and not physical.
I’m so grateful to Mom
It’s funny, Dana, because you know Mom and I have had our issues and troubles.
There is no one like her now, and I’m intensely grateful to have her with me in this, this unspeakable loss and grief that we share. I feel like she and I are muddling our way forward, sharing what help, what touches us, what helps, however small.
One month, bro.
30 days. 720 hours. 43,200 minutes.