The paper anniversary (sometimes OK to burn)

It's officially been a year. Plus two days, now. And what a shitty year it's been! So now I just have to do it again. And again. And again. But I only have to keep doing it over and over again until I die. The good news is that all the shittiness of the past year will start becoming the routine for how I go through a year! I've been hearing in my grief groups (for almost a year now as well) that the second year is usually worse than the first, because the fog is wearing off now, and reality is still, well, reality.

At least the anniversary day went well. Myself and a few friends who knew her as long or longer than I did met at her grave (which is still headstoneless) and swapped stories. We also burned some of her favorite incenses as well, because as I've said before, burning shit is just awesome, but you have to exercise discretion. Incense: OK to burn. Building you're currently living in: not OK to burn (tempting though it may be). But all in all, the anniversary passed with more laughter than tears, which is a net gain in my eyes.

So now I'm back to grinding through existence, just like I was on the 14th. I'm no stronger or wiser or peacefuler than I was a few days ago. I'm still fairly incredulous that a year has possibly passed since the love of my life stopped being alive. I still yearn to punch walls and I still cry at songs that don't call for it. And it's not getting any easier, as I've been warned. But at least...at least I have an upbeat, optimistic zinger to close this on: I am not dead yet.