They asked if I’m excited about my new job. I want to ask if they’re crazy. It’s only marginally better then asking if I’m “better now.”
They aren’t crazy, but they are oblivious. How do you explain–how do you put into words what I myself didn’t understand until I lived here? There’s a quote on Pinterest, I wish I knew who said it, about befores and afters. It is my life now.
The Miranda from Before knew excitement. The Miranda from Before had plans. She mapped out her life and she felt you move and she lived in a world where passion equals reality. She loved you with the careless assumption that you would always be alive to treasure. She’s gone now. She died when you did.
She died, but I wear her face, and I think this confuses people. I am not excitement, I am not hope. I am not dreams, I am not plans. I am baby weight and doctor’s visits and photos of a funeral. I am life on autopilot. I am After.
They ask if I’m excited about my new job, and I don’t know how to tell them that I don’t know what excitement means anymore. That I’m only moving forward because I’m not allowed to stand still. That given any choice at all, I would stop time and spend every waking moment with you.
I love you.
Miranda’s Story: Coming Alive Again
Letters to Adrian: Fri, Nov 17, 2017, 8:02 PM
Write Your Grief: I only write to ghosts. You must be one of them.
Write Your Grief: Peace
Write Your Grief: The After