There was this moment, when I was walking down the hall of Knutti, I found myself biting my nails and realized I had bitten a bunch of them down. And then, kind of out of nowhere, I thought of Ryan, and how for his entire life, he bit his nails--sometimes really low. And Lord help me, I fought the urge to double over and cry. I hadn't thought about this before, I guess--that on top of the feelings of inadequacy, depression, and probable ADHD that drove so much of his life--anxiety and uneasiness must have been all along, too. I thought about him as a little boy, feeling these ways, as a young adult feeling these ways...feeling this way until the end, probably.
So often when I think about him, I wish Adult Me could go back and help him when he was young.
I'm okay and I'll be fine. Already made peace with revising the goals and getting over it. And I am telling myself this past week was a bear, this week will be, too, but after that, there won't be many more like them. And I didn't dwell in the sadness of thinking about my brother for too long.
A couple of hours later, I went out for my walk and just as I was heading back into Knutti, I saw a dad and his daughter (probably about 9 or 10 years old?) playing in the garden out back. They were on the outcrop of rocks that sticks out of the ground, pretending to be fencing each other. No sticks and swords--all imagination. It was so sweet and pure and right now, even with some tears that came from writing about Ryan above, that memory makes me smile.
I am not sure how the two moments are connected except that they both happened today. And today, of course, is a day about remembering, mourning, and thinking about what gives life value and meaning as we keep moving forward.
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