As I write this post, my valentine is off on a work trip, and I can hardly stand it. A lot of my friends think Evan and I are pretty independent because we have our own hobbies that, after years and years of being together, we don’t try to push on each other. He has his nerd things and video games and electronic music, I have cooking and being in nature and scary movies and reading. We’re pretty good about doing our own thing and being totally cool with it.
Tuesday, February 7, 2017
Wednesday, February 1, 2017
For a while I thought “it’s bound to get better,” or “things will slow down.” But in reality, the hits keep coming. And maybe that’s what life is and what being a grownup out in the world is. Or maybe some people are just luckier than others… but even then, it’s all relative.
In 2014, six weeks before my wedding day, my dad passed away. I was 29 years old, and our little family unit—my mom, dad, sister, and myself—we were closer than most families I know. We had never spent a Thanksgiving or Christmas apart. The grief of losing him was overwhelming and all encompassing. I felt cheated that he didn’t get to be at my wedding. That he would never meet my future children. But then, my sister didn’t even get to share her engagement with him. My mom had been with my dad since she was sixteen, more of her life with him by her side than without. Grief is personal. Grief is all relative.
Posted by Amber at 2/01/2017
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