Missing You Again

Hey Greg,

It's been just shy of 18 months since you pulled the trigger, leaving your loved ones behind to come to grips with what you did.  The crushing sense of loss has mellowed, but I still miss you tremendously.

I had a major bout of... I'm not sure what to call it... it's not exactly depression, because that time has passed. Sadness?  Yeah, I guess that's the right term.  I had it a couple of weeks ago.  I really missed you, man.  Though it's not quite spring, I've been experiencing this feeling that the world is about to come back to life.  I guess it felt like you should be coming back to life as well; but I know that will never happen.  The emptiness built for several days... I talked to your brother... I talked to your mom... and still the emptiness built.  Eventually, I ended up crying in my wife's lap.  I know that the wife and I are supposed to support each other, and it was awesome that she was able to provide me a measure of comfort when I needed her, but I still couldn't help but feel weak.  It's my job to be the rock, not the one in need.  I was fortunate to have her shoulder to cry on, but it still felt wrong somehow.  F*cker!

Last night, I was watching 'Longmire' on TV.  In this episode, the main character scattered the ashes of his deceased wife.  I watched him as he reached into the plastic bag that carried her ashes... when the wind carried those ashes away... and when he broke down and cried over the experience... I couldn't help but remember when I did the same thing with your ashes.  I recalled how your entire life experience was distilled to a few pounds of carbon... I remembered how a handful of ash felt so light... so fine... almost like talcum powder... but the heaviness of the overall bag of your remains...

I've resigned myself to the knowledge that I will never truly "get over" your death, which is kind of funny, because managed to get past my divorce -- the only real comparison to your death.  I found genuine happiness after my divorce, but I've come to accept that when you committed suicide, you not only took yourself from this world... you also permanently removed a measure of my own joy.  I'm fortunate to be an overall happy man, but you should know that you managed to steal a small piece of my happiness.  F*cker!

Back in Shape

In 2012 I made a few lifestyle changes and started getting into shape.  My original goals were relatively modest, with the primary one being the desire to pull off a First Class Marine Corps Physical Fitness Test.  At my peak, I pulled off a First Class PFT two age brackets below my own, and was in striking distance of hitting a First Class PFT for the 18 year old age bracket.  I injured myself in 2015 and stopped going to the gym for over a year.  I finally started hitting the gym in December of 2016.

Today, I did my first PFT since getting back to the gym, and I'm pleased to say that I managed to pull off a First Class PFT.  I was four points away from a First Class in the age bracket below me.  I've got a ways to go before I was in the shape I was before injuring myself, but I'm happy to have made this much progress in a few short months.