Resolutions

Right now is a very particular time of year. All around the World we are finding time to pause, to breathe, and to reflect. Maybe we've put it off because this has been a difficult year and we simply weren't ready for these feelings. Maybe we got so caught up in running, running, running, that we forgot to step back and see where exactly we were going. Maybe life got away from us this year or maybe we are trying to hold on tightly to the last days of the best year of our lives. No matter what the situation is, we owe it to ourselves to stop and to remember.

For me, 2013 came and left in a flurry. Everything about this year was hectic and wild and despite the mess, it was beautiful. To be totally honest, I don't remember what we did last year for New Year's Eve. My husband swears we made jungle juice and partied right through to daybreak. I remember the party but not the day, so I'm just going to go along with that story. Early in the year we found out my husband was going to be honorably discharged from the Army. The only words that come to mind when I think about the first four months of the year are busy, stressful, and bittersweet. We were constantly in a state of rushing. The peace and calm we had expected when we came back home turned out to be a fantasy. Spring and most of Summer were spent in a perpetual state of imbalance. It felt like we were scrambling. Scrambling for jobs, for money, for a house, for time together. July brought the first moments of true comfort all year. In fact, July turned our lives stagnant faster than we could adjust. It's been five months of routine. Five months of day in and day out. Five months of too much of nothing. 

I really came here to say the same thing everyone else is saying. I am ready for the new year. I also came to say that I am fucking terrified. Am I ready to change things up and see where it goes? Yeah. But guys, I am so scared of what 2014 is going to bring. When I look around I see an awful lot of maybes, could haves, and we'll sees. Everything is floating up in the air and I'm just standing down here, feeling small and worried and trying to plan for the complete and total uncertainty that is my life. I don't even know which scenarios I'm rooting for at this point. In six months I could be looking back at this moment and celebrate the fact that I ended up on a totally different route. I could really feel freed from all the things that bind me. Or I could be memorizing all the good I had and all the joy I kept. I could look back on this moment with so much regret. Life is so amazingly scary in that way. 

I want to be able to write out all these goals I have. I want to tell you all about the places I want to go and the things I want to learn in 2014. I want to build a giant mountain for myself to climb and then laugh when I tumble down because, hell, we'll all be tumbling down soon. I'm not going to do that this time. I'm not going to turn this next year into some unconquerable feat. I'm not going to run around pretending I'll be a different person this year. For once I feel like everything is outside of my control. I just feel so small and so unsure. Something about this year feels different to me. I'm not trying to sound so negative here. I'm not saying that I expect this year to be awful or sad or heartbreaking. All I'm trying to say is that it feels like 2014 is going to bring a lot of changes. I feel like the universe has an awful lot of plans for me and my gut is sorted of twisted up about it. The tides are changing and I don't know if I have my sea legs yet. I'm going to paddle out with hope and with curiosity. 

I suppose we all face about a 50/50 chance when the new year comes. This is the time when we are most vulnerable. Maybe we are just more open and willing to experience this connection with the universe. We are so reflective and hopeful and scared that we have the ability to realize just how monumental each day is. As the year goes on, we forget, but for now we are so aware. We are able to sit back right now and relive the emotions of 2013. All the best and worst stick out like sore thumbs and we're free to dive back in for just a little bit. We want to get in touch with those emotions while they're still a little raw and fresh and pure. We need to dwell on them before they get altered by time and memories. I think we should write them down, sing them out, paint them. 

Being human is such a fragile thing. We think we're big and strong. We think we could probably handle anything but the truth is that life is so much bigger. Life is so much more powerful and mystical and so far out of your control. We try to make it small. We try to gather up the big parts and compact them and make them small so we can hide them away close to our hearts where no one can touch them. We try to turn mountains into molehills so we can smash them in with our boots and we can feel powerful and strong and forget that we are scared. We want the power of life to fit into our palms so then we can feel like we have control. If it is in my hand then it is at the mercy of my fingers and my forearm and my biceps. If I so wanted, I could hurl it into space and I could be safe from the turmoil of life. I could also wrap it up. I could swaddle it and secure it and pin it up someplace very high and dry and safe. If I could fit it in my palm, I could hold onto the good forever. I could bathe in its warmth and its safety. I could really live a life that is good, if I could hold it in my hand. The truth though, is that we can't. We couldn't even grab onto the smaller parts of life if we tried. All the good and all the bad would seep through your fingers and be gone. We have control over the smallest fractions of the small stuff. We have maybe 75% control over how we feel, and that's only if our brains are perfectly healthy and balanced. Some of us have even less control. We have about the same amount of control over things like our jobs and our diets. Things that we think we are in control of like our relationships are really some of the biggest variables of all. Everything is so small and fragile. 

So as we come upon the dawn of 2014, let's just agree to take a deep breath. Know that we handled everything in 2013 with as much grace and strength as we could. Know that the mistakes we made are over and done and we have learned our lessons. Know that burned bridges can always be repaired and broken hearts always find a way to beat again. Know that we have learned and loved and grown and hoped and swore exactly enough for one year. No more. No less. This year we have been exactly enough, we have had exactly enough, and we have done exactly enough. 

For 2014 I hope and I pray that life takes me someplace exciting. I'd love to see some adventure, meet new people, go new places. I hope my marriage grows ever stronger. I hope I stay true to myself as often as possible and that I remember to love myself despite my mistakes. I hope for big and bold and beautiful things, but all I really ask for is the right amount of everything. I'll take some pain and some loss to balance out the joy and the bounty. I hope that in this new year I can continue to be happy. If my life goes up or down, through the woods or over the river, my only goal is to be happy. I promise to eat what sounds good, by try not to over indulge. I promise to do activities that make me feel good and avoid ones that hurt my knees and hips. I promise to do at least one thing that really scares me and at least one thing that makes me really happy. I promise to continue living my life with my heart first and my brain seconds because, well, that's just who I am. I promise to keep planning every little thing, but I also promise to chill the fuck out when things change. I promise to get my fill of the beach, the sun, the changing leaves, the smell of rain on hot asphalt, and the sound of people's hearts beating. I promise to cry when I'm too mad or happy or lonely. I promise to count my blessings when the sun is shining...and to try and count them when the clouds come out. My only resolution this year is to do my best.

Mountains

You know, I think the truth behind my words is that I am a quitter. I've always found a way to rationalize it. I've always told myself that I didn't reach my goal because I either had a big obstacle, a legitimate excuse, or I decided that goal did not matter to me anymore. I have always babied myself into thinking that I run around conquering all of life's issues. I have stopped telling people my plans and you know why? Because I don't finish them. Ever. I dream big and I talk big but I have accomplished very little.

I remember being dead set on going to college for psychology. I took classes in high school and I wrote about all these ideas. I was set on a specific college. I even went as far as to look into the apartments in that city and scope out available jobs. But I don't think I did very well on my SAT, to tell you the truth. I spent the last 2 years of high school desperately trying to make up for the first two years. I let my financial issues, my past grades, and my educational hang-ups stop me. I let all the bad make a big mountain and I knelt at the base crying out "I just can't!" Then I tried to move on and find another dream.

After I gave up, people still asked me about it. They looked at me with those big hopeful eyes because they had believed in me. They wanted to know if I was doing online school or anything and I didn't know how to tell them "no". Instead I told them about my wedding. Instead I told them about all the phone calls I was making to move to Germany. I had already admitted the stupidity and cowardice to myself. I had already had a heart-to-heart with myself about how I should have done it and how I could still do it. I did all that and I still didn't try and climb that mountain. I couldn't go back through that with someone else, so I hid.

This has happened off and on throughout my life. I build this happy alternate reality where I've done something to improve. I tell everyone about it because the magazines say that vocalizing your goals will make you more likely to succeed. When I first start out, I go all out. I do my research, I do my planning, I get my gear, and I started up the mountain. Sometimes I get three-quarters of the way up and sometimes I can't even make it that far before I just...stop. I don't know if I am going at it all wrong or what. Maybe it's like a marathon and I just go too fast for the first half so I am sluggish and beaten down in the end. Maybe I use up all of my excitement and passion by focusing all of my energy on my goal in the beginning. Maybe I just don't know how to commit.

For whatever reason, I probably cannot count every thing I gave up on or quit. I've made such a habit out of it that I fear it is part of who I am. I'm the girl with a million laughs. I'm the girl who makes the best faces. I'm the girl who makes really bad jokes. But I lay awake at night wondering if I'm the girl who never completes anything. Am I the kind of person that is all bark and no bite? Am I just addicted to the rush of a new journey without being determined enough to chase the dream?

I feel like it is really important that I find something big, something wild, and maybe even something a little crazy and then I go after it. I need to do something from start to finish. Maybe it will be even better if I don't tell anyone that I am doing it. Just this big, secret journey with me, myself, and I. I think I need to take something by the reigns and really conquer a mountain because I'm starting to think I'll never see the peak. I'm starting to worry that I will forever be bad at succeeding. I couldn't stand it if I spent the rest of my life getting in my own way. It's bad enough to wonder where I might be now if I never stopped myself back then.

I wouldn't say I have regrets, but I would say I've made mistakes and now is my time to learn from them. I've recently taken on a few new obligations and I think that's a good start. I think it is important that I have a job that I am proud of and a volunteer commitment that I find fulfilling. Is it greedy of me to think that on top of that I also need something I find challenging? Is it wrong of me to seek out enrichment in so many areas of life? I want to think of myself as someone who really goes after what she wants. In order to do that, I need to take this leap.

As of today, I will be working towards a new goal. I don't know when I'll finish and I don't know what I'll accomplish when I'm done, but I am going to see this out to the end. There's a chance that I will fail. I am only human and I have no control over life's obstacles. The important thing is that I go all the way to the finish line and I see what is waiting for me there. If I decide to try and lose 50 pound sin a year, and I get to the one year mark with only 20 pounds lost, that is still a victory. If I decide to learn how to swim and dive by the end of the year, and next December I am still mastering dives, that is still a success. I promise that I will commit to a new journey today. I promise that I will not get in my own way. I promise that I will not get other people excited about it because it is not for them. I promise that I will take all the good with the bad because that is what commitment is all about. I promise to give my very best to this challenge. Here's to conquering our fears.

My Adventures in Bra Shopping.

I haven't written in a really long time and my absence has not been intentional. I have some good thought provoking posts coming up! I have a few things in my head that I want to turn into words so I can share with you. Currently all of that is being overrun by the fact that I am finally, for the first time in 11 years, am wearing the correct size bra!

If you recall, I had a nice long rant back in September about bras. What I left out was the fact that even with all this knowledge, I still left the store with a 40DD bra. That bra was so bad. The band stretched out like crazy, the cups and under wire dug into me, and my chest was not being flattered by wearing the wrong size. I know that finding a store with higher quality bras that cater to large busted ladies is hard. I know the price tags make me want to cry and the sizes are overwhelming. I was too much of a wimp to go and face all these issues back then, so I suffered. 

My stepmother bought me my first bras in the wrong size. She bought every single bra from age 11 to age 16 in the wrong size. I distinctly remember when I was 13 we went bra shopping. I put on a DD and I was so comfortable. I showed it off to her with my big smile and she just frowned. She said there was no way we were getting it. There was no way I needed a DD because her "mom was a true DD and her breasts were the size of watermelons". We left the store with a C cup bra. I started to think all bras were awful. I thought I was going to deal with the pinching bands, the broken under wires, the deep cut shoulder straps, and the "quadra boob" for the rest of my life. I thought this was normal because I had never been in the right size bra. When I was 15 I had a "bra expert" at Victoria's Secret size me. I rubbed it in my stepmother's face that the professional put me in a DD cup bra. 

In the big scary World of adulthood, I didn't know bras went above a DD. I never even once heard a woman talk about her bra being anything bigger than a DD. When my bras continued to be uncomfortable and my breasts continued to grow, I became frustrated. No one else seemed to struggle so much with bras. The other women weren't constantly tugging at their bras and rubbing out the red marks. When I first had this revelation, I looked online for what I thought would be my proper size. I was willing to assume I could fit into maybe a DDD or, dare I admit it, an E cup. I felt kind of silly. I felt like the only woman who believed in the power of bras above a DD cup. After 30 minutes of searching, I felt defeated! Suddenly my $20 bras were upwards of $75 or even $100! Living in Germany, my only option was to buy online and I just couldn't do it. 

When we got to America, I went into JC Penney and looked around. There was only one brand that made bras that looked nicer than a bullet proof vest and their 36E made me look ridiculous! It was their biggest size so I went down from there. I bit the bullet on a 38DDD bra and a strapless in a 38DD since those fit a little more snug. I was so proud of myself for accepting a size above a DD cup. I was confident in my purchase. It didn't take long to feel like this bra was just like every other bra. When it broke, it came as no surprise to me. I had been snapping the under wire out of bras for as long as I could remember. Fast forward to the hasty purchase in October, bought a 40DD to appease the "bra expert", and left. 

Fast forward one more time to Wednesday night when that crappy bra snapped its under wire. I told my husband that I was sorry but I had to buy a bra in the right size. I couldn't stand wearing these DD bras anymore. I told him they would be more expensive, but I would only buy one so it didn't suck so much. I measured and re-measured and I went in there with a game plan. I tore a handful of 36F bras off the racks and marched in the fitting room. I was floored when they didn't fit me correctly. I tried on one more and one more after that just to make sure. I slunk back to the sales floor and picked two 36Gs off the racks. They looked so big! I gave them the stinkeye all the way back to the fitting room. I loosened the straps, adjusted, hooked, and stood up. 

HOLY COW! Was that my chest in there? Were these glorious beasts really mine? There was no way in the World that I was very comfortably filling out a 36G...right? I turned to the side. I adjusted again. I bent over. I squished them together. I just couldn't believe my eyes. They looked so much bigger and fuller! My posture seemed to be better instantly. They were spilling out a little on top and to be honest, I think I may need a 36H in the future. I sort of like the way it looks, so I was very happy to parade the bra back to the checkout line and purchase it. 

Last night I put on my old bra under a tank top and stared. There were my weird, squished, disproportionate boobs. The ones I had been toting for 10 years. I switched into my new bra, put the tank top back on, and smiled. There was a grown woman with a pretty good rack. For once in my life I saw the same thing with a bra on that I did when my bra was off. I believed in all the times my husband had to re-convince me that my chest was just fine. I finally saw the body he has seen all these years. I feel 100% more confident! I am still adjusting to the bra touching in places it never did before, but I know it will get easier. 

I am so happy I took the plunge and I strongly encourage all women to do it. Use the measuring guide on my old post. Go into Dillard's or any other store that sells high quality lingerie. Walk through the racks and pick out a few in the size suggested by the guide. It may seem scary to try on a DD when you have been in a C your whole life. You may feel like a complete nut carrying around bras that could fit on your head. Just try to be brave and try them on. Maybe you're happier in your current size. Whatever it comfortable and makes you happy is the right option. I just want you to try this other size on. Step outside your comfort zone and see what happens. If you take my advice, please post a comment or message me about your experience! I'd love to hear some other ladies trying it out.


**NOTE: Tomorrow I will be adding a photo comparison of my two bras. The easiest way was to take a photo of the bras side-by-side on the bed. I thought it would really help understand the difference between department store sizing and proper lingerie sizing.**

Pondering

I know it's been really quiet in here lately and I'm sorry. I have been fighting a lot of pain lately and have chosen to spend my free time just sitting here, zoning out and taking excedrin instead of trying to write. This week, after a week off, I decided to get back into the gym. I'm going to do what I feel like is good for me on that day. If my knees are bad I will do uphill on the treadmill instead of biking. If my wrists and elbows are having issues I will lift for my lower body instead. I noticed that this is a good idea. Not only does it give me my time to relax, but it challenges me and helps me. Focusing on the soreness of my muscles makes it much easier to ignore the nerve pain so I am happy. That being said, I am sorry and I will work on posting more.

Today's post was inspired by a really rough point I had last night. 

When someone you love passes away, there are a lot of things that you think about immediately. You think back on the last few times you saw them. You're so emotional that you can't remember what the joke was that made you both laugh until your ribs hurt. You try to remember who drove on which day and what shirt they were wearing when you last told them you would see them later. If it is this hard to remember things now, how long will it be until you forget entirely?

You start searching your memory about things you said. You want to know exactly how many times you told them you loved them. You want to remember if you ever sat them down and really poured your heart out about what they mean to you. You want to know if you really were a good friend, or if you only thought you were. It is absolutely heartbreaking to re-evaluate every conversation you had because there's a sliver of a chance that they died without knowing that you loved them. Something inside of you tells you that maybe if they knew just how much they mattered, this wouldn't have happened. Or maybe you worry that they passed away without feeling completely at ease because they had a moment where they didn't know if you'd miss them. These things aren't true but when your heart is breaking, it feels like they are indisputable facts. 

There's a point in your grief where you start listing all of the things they never got to do. You remember them saying how much they loved the ocean, and all you want is for them to be back so you can go diving and snorkeling and surfing because they deserve to do those things. You think about how afraid of heights they were and you wish you could have gone sky diving with them to help them trump the fear. You break down completely when you realize they missed out on something really amazing like having a really close family or watching snow fall. Everything feels a million times worse when you think about the fact that they never got married or had kids...and you're not sure if they wanted either one. It is so overwhelming to dwell on all of the life that person will never get to experience. You are torn between feeling guilty that you'll be able to do most of those things, and feeling inspired to go out and do them all in your friend's honor. 

You go over all of these thoughts probably a million times between the moment you find out and the day of the funeral. Hearing other people recount their memories, thoughts, and wishes will take your breath away. On this day, maybe for the first time since you got the news, you will think of the beauty and love this person brought to the World. You will be able to imagine their face smiling, the sound of their voice, and the ring of their laughter. It will be bittersweet knowing these memories are all you have left now, but you will be grateful for having something. 

Then you really begin the grieving process. For some this takes days and for others it may take years. You may feel like one day you are finished grieving, but on certain days you will feel like you are all the way back to square one. You will have photos or letters or some sort of memento that you will spend a lot of time with. You will heal on your own terms because that is how it works. There is no wrong way to handle losing someone. 

As time goes on you will be on a roller coaster of emotions. At some point you will think of them and you will remember them laughing, except you can't remember what their laugh sounded like. You will close your eyes and speak to them in the middle of the night, but you won't remember if the eyes you are staring into are blue or green. You will think about advice they would have given you, but you won't remember the infliction in their voice. These things are inevitable sometimes. This is probably the hardest part for me, personally. I find that as time goes on, you start thinking about how much you are missing out on because of their absence. Things like this, where you wish you had their advice or that funny face they made that could cheer you up no matter what. You are almost always aware that life is just a little bit less sunny without them there.

You grow up, you achieve amazing things, and you still miss them. You will be sitting down, pondering life, and you will think of them. This happened to me last night and I felt like it shattered the last nearly 4 years of healing. I was thinking about when I finally get pregnant. My husband and I have agreed not to tell our family until the first trimester is done so we can be sure everything is on track and the baby is healthy. I always have to have one person to tell my secrets too, though. If I don't tell someone then I eventually mess up and tell everyone. Well in this split moment, when I was imagining whispering my secret to someone, I pictured dialing my friend RJ's number. I could see his smile, you guys. I could hear the joy in his voice when I told him and then instantly I felt like I was hit by a truck because I remembered he was gone. The number one person I would want to tell my secret to, who I would want to share all that joy with, who would do nothing by multiply the perfection of the moment is gone. I was sad when I couldn't tell RJ I was getting married. I was sad when I couldn't speak with him about Germany. But this thought, this future plan, this idea of telling RJ about my pregnancy just broke my heart. 

So after spending a night thinking about how different my life has been without these people around me, I wanted to take some time and talk about it. I am so used to being around lots of people that these past few months have been really hard on me. When I have a secret, I literally don't know who to call anymore. My friends from home are all living very exciting and busy lives. The people I would typically call either just had a baby, are moving into a new home, or are currently not speaking with me. Sometimes I want to say things that maybe my husband wouldn't understand, or maybe it's a secret so deep that I haven't brought it up to him. It isn't fair for me to rely on him as my only confidant. It's so hard having to keep these things inside of me. That's the biggest reason why I write here. This blog holds all of my deepest thoughts and feelings. This blog is a safe place where I can get anything off of my chest. 

Today I want to highlight some of my favorite memories from people who I have lost. 

The first person I remember losing was my great grandmother. I don't remember how close we were, but I remember feeling like she meant the World to me. I remember her annoying dog, peanut. He was so little and yappy and he smelled like grandma's house. I remember she was always trying to feed us something. I remember her curly hair and her sweet face. I remember that my great grandmother made me feel loved. She told me stories about growing up in a pure blooded family while she was mixed race. I think maybe I got some of my tenacity from her. Even when I was little, I think I understood that she was proud and she was strong. That was the kind of woman I wanted to be one day. If I remember correctly, she fought tooth and nail in her final years. I feel like she broke her hip and recovered, had a heart attack and recovered, and then finally succumbed to something-maybe pneumonia. That part isn't important. The point I'm making is that she was determined to go when she was ready; not when things got hard. This is going to sound odd, but her funeral is a special memory for me as well. She had a traditional Native American ceremony and I remember how beautiful it was. On that day I was surrounded by my family and that was not something I ever got to experience. I looked up and saw people who marveled at me. They were so excited to see me. They all loved me so much. I stared at my relatives because they were so beautiful to me. I was captivated by the long black and grey braids. I noticed the strong cheekbones, the dark skin, the soulful eyes of my heritage in each and every face. For the first, and maybe last time, I felt like I was really connected to where I came from. The moment that is still clear as day to me was the moment that I swear I saw my great grandmother's ghost. The smoke was settling in the graveyard and I saw her face. 

The next person we lost was my step mother's father. Grandpa Judd always amazed me. His house was full of so many things. I feel like every time we went to see him he would tell us about something he owned that he loved. I was young when we lost him, and it seemed to me like he had been all over the World. I remember always thinking that Grandpa Judd had the best stories. I remember playing Duck Hunter and Dr. Mario at his house. I remember he gave us 50 cent pieces all the time. I remember that after church we went to the Mexican restaurant in town. It was always church and Mexican food. He and Grandma Alberta always seemed so peaceful. I couldn't imagine that they had a care in the World while he was still alive. His was the first wake I ever went to. The funeral was peculiar to me because I cried like a baby, and my step brother just sat there. I replayed that in my mind so many times. I think I've always been really bad at grieving. 

When I was a teenager I volunteered with a local fire department. One year we were introduced to a very sweet little girl who dreamed of being a firefighter. Her name was Sabrina and we soon learned that she had cancer. Our fire station was filled with a bunch of older, surly, country men...with huge hearts. We did everything we could for that little girl. We did fundraisers to provide her family with gas cards to help with all their trips to Portland for treatment. We put on our gear, dressed her in gear, got her a helmet with her name on it, took a picture together, and made her an honorary firefighter. We watched her fight from afar. We saw the cancer wreak havoc on her poor little body and we shared the joy of her parents when she started to look better after steroid treatments. We all teared up when she made it to the date the doctors had given her family, and we celebrated when she went far beyond that point. Sabrina lost her fight to neuroblastoma, a violent form of brain cancer, shortly after the Winter. Her funeral was so beautiful though, you guys. Her parents had displayed all kinds of art she had made. Every person was given a packet of sunflower seeds to plant. Sabrina would have wanted us to remember there's beauty in the World. Sabrina was a beautiful flower. Seeing an eight year old give cancer a run for its money was one of the most tragically inspiring times in my life. 

While I was volunteering with the fire department, I got really close to the guys who worked there. It felt like I had a family that was all brothers and fathers. We worked together, looked out for each other, and fought like family. I looked up to Danny the most I think, and I was fairly close with his son Brian. I remember the first time I had to do with fitness test, I was terrified of the fire hose. I was convinced it would knock me back when I turned it on. Brian stood behind me and promised me he wouldn't let anything happen. It got away from me a little bit and hit the tree nearby and it sprayed down, but I didn't fall. The first time we practiced climbing the truck ladders, they wanted us to go all the way up to the roof. I was so scared of heights that I went up as far as I could and then I panicked. Some of the guys insisted that I had to go all the way. Brian and Danny stood up for me and said that I only had to go as far as I felt comfortable. They stood at the bottom and they waited for me to come down. I didn't feel embarrassed because I had them on my side. When we did a live practice and they had me sit in a closet while the house burned, I struggled to go dead weight for them to carry me out. I was so scared that I couldn't relax. Brian was right by my head telling me that nothing would happen. He told me they had me and no matter what I would be okay. I remember meeting his girlfriend, and I remember when she became his fiancee. I remember when they bought their house. Brian was at the best point of his life. His smile was so damn infectious and he was so grateful for what he had. Brian brought so much joy to the department. It was the best when his mom would cook for us and their whole family was together in the meeting. At the pancake feed every year it was Brian who made the giant pancake. That was his tradition. Imagine how happy everyone was to watch him try and flip a monster pancake. It was the highlight every single year. You can imagine how much it shocked us to lose him. I woke speak about his funeral service because I do not have good memories. It was hands down the hardest thing I have ever had to sit through. Brian dying has helped me keep my life in perspective every day. Brian was taken from us when he had everything going for him. He had just reached the best point in his life. He didn't take anything for granted, and he reminds me not to either. Because of him, I say "I love you" after every call to my husband. I don't care if he called just to say he found cheap gas or that he just ate the best sandwich ever. I will double the length of a 30 second phone call to tell him I love him. He is the reason I try not to get caught up in the things I cannot control. He is the reason I take time to be thankful for everything I have. Brian taught me so many things but the number one thing I learned was that no matter what happens, I need to be happy and i need to be thankful. Even on the worst of days I still have an amazing life. I want to make sure I face life with open arms and an open heart because I could lose everything tomorrow.

The most recent, and most devastating loss I had was my friend RJ. I spent a very short amount of time with him before I lost him. The only memories I have of him are good ones. From the first moment we met, we understood each other. I didn't know that it was possible to love and care for someone the way we did. We had this connection where we could almost feel when we needed to call the other person. To put it simply; we were soulmates. RJ taught me how to truly appreciate myself. He showed me beauty where I saw none. He showed me strength and trust that I didn't know existed. Through him I learned the true importance of support. We went through hell, but we did it together. We grew through the dark times. RJ brought so many things to my life that are irreplaceable. He is the one person who really made me feel inspired to make a difference, though. His was the first death that really sparked me into action. When I get scared of something, I think about how he doesn't have the chance to be scared any more, and I try to conquer that fear. When I am about to face something momentous in my life, I think about him missing out, and I gather up a little extra courage. RJ lived a really tough life. There was a lot of good in it, but there was also a lot of darkness. I think about him a lot when I think about things I've achieved. Even things that other people don't care about at all, I know he would have been proud of. When I do something extra at work, I know he'd tell me I did a good job. When I feel really emotional I know he would want to be there to comfort me. I see RJ in the stars, the moon, the changing leaves, and the ocean waves. I see him in all the beauty of the World because that is what he was to me. On the dreary days I always have beauty because I have him by my side. In the tough times I always have a calm voice because I have him by my side. 

I know I've written about these things before, so I thank you for taking the time to read this one. I hope you can imagine the lives of these people and that maybe they can inspire you too.