afternoon pilates
regularly scheduled pickup games
my pal who is now living in hawaii
snoring
sweetness fc
rides home from my dad
family. family traditions.
my youthful metabolism.
my jock jams dance partner
dvr
song pop

Something I borrowed from a friend’s facebook post:

“So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark—that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.”

It’s been 5 years since Brandon Kitchens passed away. I thought that quote was rather fitting. Peace.

I know it’s not the same at all, but when I was 19 one of my best friends from high school was killed in a car accident. I went home for the funeral, was a complete mess for three days, and then went back to school and threw myself into soccer and school and tried to muddle through the rest. Keeping busy helped but sometimes, for no explicable reason whatsoever, I would just be overcome—friends started to worry that I might be going a little bit crazy. That went on for a year or so. But at some point the memories and thoughts I had of him, even the sad ones, went from triggering tears or anger or nutty emotions, to just being nice. Just last week, standing in the player tunnel at TP I heard someone in the stands laugh just like Lloyd did—he had a very distinctive laugh. And I smiled. And then I heard it again and I laughed for a while. It was great. 

Anyway, I’m sure you know that everything you are feeling is normal, but I remember that feeling of “will I always feel like this?” “Will I always miss him so much it feels like a hole in my chest?” And the answer is no.