I have become accustomed to tearing up in the strangest places these days. Sometimes with fair warning and other times with no warning at all. It’s not that I’m out of control, but that I will be so caught by a memory, by a moment, by a reminder I connect with so deeply and that raw emotion just emits forth.

Over a year has passed since max passed away, and I don’t know how I feel. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be through the grieving process, if I’m supposed to be healed and whole. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be, but I’m here. I’m at this spot. An unidentifiable, unmarked place, desolate place. Somewhere between a complete wreck and completely healed, that’s where I am. The pain still stings, but less than days in the past. My eyes still fill with tears of sorrow, but much less frequently than before. I’m still a broken man, but I am walking a bit taller than before.

I am more optimistic than before, and I think that’s a good thing. Hope exists where barren fields of despair had taken up residency. It’s not that the hurt is gone, but it no longer consumes. The pain is no longer the central focus of my days.

The greatest honor I can give to Max is to live my life with passion, with hope and with purpose. To live a life that honors who he was, the role he played in my life and with the spirit that he lived with.

SB