Well the past two weeks I have been absent from blog writing. The first anniversary of Tin’s passing was quickly approaching and I honestly was scared. Scared to think about it. Scared to talk about it. Scared that when the day came, it would make it more true. For the first few months, holidays, birthdays I felt like it was a short enough time span to still be a dream yet the passing of the first anniversary meant it really wasn’t a dream. It wasn't a nighttime nightmare. It was reality...

     After our income fell drastically, we moved into a one-bedroom apartment at a great location; it’s only a 20 minute walk to Anisha’s school.  However, it is not a big, character home like the ones her two best friends live in.  Recently she said, “I wish we lived in a big house like my friends.”  I can’t describe how hard the reduced income has been on me.  For me it’s a lot harder than for my daughter because she doesn’t know any better since she doesn’t recall our previous home.  I know I should not compare families.  Various parent friends have told me, “Nothing good comes from comparing your family to other families.  I know all of this, yet I still get frustrate when I see, or at least I think I see, other people enjoying easier lives.

I am so f-in tired tire of being apologetic, or maybe, “pre-emptively apologetic” is a better word.  It is the act of defending your views before anyone has even tried to refute them.  To be pre-emptively apologetic means that I talk about my wife carefully because I fear the comments of others.  With Natasha, there was no fear, I could just talk, and talk, and talk.

January is when Megan was first diagnosed with chronic organ transplant rejection.  February is Shelby’s birthday. May is Mother’s Day, June is when she was admitted to the hospital, never to come home again, July is her birthday, August is our anniversary, September is when the next year of school starts for Shelby, October is my birthday, November is when she died, and December, is well, the “holidays”.

March and April though have no special “milestones”.  I can’t really think of any specific memories or significant happenings that have or will occur as it relates to Megan and her death.  I get to “coast” through these months, in a sense, fairly comfortable with believing that I shouldn’t have any “predetermined” triggers.

I did it. Maybe I didn’t outwardly realize I was doing it but I did it. I ignored the rising flood.

For much of my life, I have been what can best be described as “grumpy”.  I’ve tended to over-react and or see the worst in things, and myself. Something as simple as going to the grocery store brought out a part of me that only wanted to see the worst of humanity, followed by a reaction resembling anger, then followed by regret and shame at said reaction.  It’s a vicious cycle that culminated in my general tendency to either want to be completely introverted, or to only seek out things that allow me to be alone, yet enjoy an activity.

I always find something to blame for these traits.  Work is stressful, money is tight, bills are too high, it’s too cold for too long, I don’t have enough time in a day, or any other number of outside influencers gave me an “excuse” to just be angry or reactionary to the tiniest little stressors in life.  More often than not, I placed the blame squarely on myself. I couldn’t handle work, I spent too much money or signed up for needless services. I’m too stupid to put a coat on and go outside, or I’m just plain lazy, and not using the time I DO have effectively.

In some ways, Megan’s health masked this.  I was so laser focused on her well-being that I didn’t ever take the time to self-examine and really try to figure out why I am the way I am.  Honestly, after her first transplant and subsequent relative good health, I didn’t know what to do with myself other than self-deprecate and become introverted.  It caused issues. She finally had the ability to enjoy life, and I wanted only to sit in the house and “relax”.

I’ve had very few visitors since Tin passed away. I don’t know if the reason is avoidance, being unsure of how I’ll be with guests or just that life goes on and we become too busy for the little things.  Approaching the first anniversary of Tin’s passing, as the warmer month’s and spring break approaches, I’m starting to get the calls to stop in for a weekend.

One of the most fundamental aspect of our species is that we are constantly comparing everything.  Walking down the street, our brains are constantly comparing the faces of strangers to faces of people we know.  Isn’t that? …no, she’s too tall to be her.  Comparing helps us cross the street and be safe—we have an image of a safe crosswalk in our brains, and we compare what we see on the street with that image before our feet leave the curb.  Most comparisons keep us safe and healthy, while others simply make life far more complicated than it has to be. 

As the first anniversary of Tin’s passing ebbs closer, I find myself at the gate to the last season of the firsts. 

     I have watched loved ones turn into corpses, and, I somehow managed to survive.  Being alive means I get to watch an amazing little girl grow up, but each and everyday, I daydream of what life would be like if Anisha’s mother and grandparents were still with us.  I try to look on the positive—I am the ONE who gets to raise an amazing little girl!  I get to feel her hand on my face in the morning, “Dada, wake up!  I’m hungry.”  I get to hear her say, “Daddy, look at my new dance move!” or “Daddy I wish I could hug you forever and never, ever let go!”  I try hard to remind myself of the precious joys of watching a girl who is a blend of my wife and I mature.  I try, yet I still feel this never ending abyss of pain, fear and anger.