i wasn't prepared.

I wasn’t prepared.

That sentence feels like the simplest way to summarize 2023.

I wasn’t prepared to lose my job.

I wasn’t prepared to find work I absolutely love.

I wasn’t prepared to see so many stunning parts of the world.

I wasn’t prepared to have the chance to take my best friend to Mexico after almost losing her at the end of 2022.

I wasn’t prepared for that to be our last trip together.

I wasn’t prepared to lose her.

I wasn’t prepared to watch her essence fade away and feel utterly helpless.

I wasn’t prepared for how protective I would be and the lengths I would go to ensure she was honored and respected.

I wasn’t prepared for the loneliness the loss would leave in its wake or the fear I would have about losing other people I love.

I wasn’t prepared to speak at her funeral or to watch her life be reduced to ashes.

I wasn’t prepared to have to fly across the globe the next day.

I wasn’t prepared to hug her mama and fall apart at the seams.

I wasn’t prepared to gain a second family that I love like my own.

I wasn’t prepared to want to tell her something and then remember that I can’t anymore.

I wasn’t prepared for the guilt I would feel as I wondered and continue to wonder why I get this life that she never will.

I will never be prepared to comprehend that my future baby won’t know their Aunt Amy on this side of heaven.

I just simply wasn’t prepared.

2023 took my soul the lowest it has ever gone.

There’s tears streaming and a tightness in my chest that is bubbling as I write this tonight.

The world seems to put this expiration date on grief.

They ask how you are for a few weeks and then it’s just expected that you return to normal.

But, pardon my french, what the fuck is normal after a loss this immense?

I found a video the other day she had taken when I got stopped by the Mexican police (apparently you cannot travel to Mexico with two laptops in case you have plans to do so sometime soon).

I have a tone I arrive at pretty immediately when I’m irritated or protective.

A tone that was turned up to 10 in this Mexican security office.

Partly because I didn’t want to lose a laptop, but mostly because her parents just entrusted me to take her out of the country and here we are already in trouble.

She’s just laughing away at me. Light hearted and just happy to be alive. An energy I could never capture for you here on paper.

I was laughing and crying simultaneously as I watched it back.

But I ultimately just arrived at the truth that life will never feel “normal” again.

Joy has and will return.

Laughter surfaces when something is funny enough.

Her memory very much lives on in every person she’s ever loved.

But life isn’t “normal” and I’m done trying to pretend it ever will be.

I think the pressure to tie everything up in a perfect little bow is why our world is in the state that it is in.

Grief often makes people uncomfortable and we live in a society that is taught to find a silver lining.

There is no silver lining here.

There’s lessons and emotions and beautiful memories that came from incredibly tragic moments, but any one of us would trade all of it to have her here for one minute longer.

And honestly, I don’t have a perfect line to end this entry.

I miss her.

I will always miss her.

And tonight, as I sit here processing through some big life changes that are on their way- all I want is my best friend.

That will always be her.

And this will never be normal.

xx

J