Yesterday was the last round of the anniversary days for the year. Granted, the funeral was on the 7th, but that day doesn't matter nearly as much as the 4th. Whatever process my brain used to filter it, all of the pain resides mostly in the 4th. Especially with this many years between the event and now.
There is a huge worry about next year. I will be 44 and a half. My mom was a little tiny bit older than that when she died. Her birthday was in March, and mine is in June. However, it will be close enough for me to worry. I look like her, I have the same mental afflictions as her, at times, and I'm pretty close to feeling like she must have felt, from time to time. When 2018 rolls around, will I have outlived her, or not? Time will tell. I can't answer that, right now.
No matter how I fill up the time, the fact remains that it doesn't have any real meaning. The things I have done to make it all feel like I am actually alive are so temporary. All that has happened in the last year feels ephemeral to me. Wisps of mist evaporate quickly. The veil of joy dissipates quickly.
The fact remains clear to me that I must fill up my time, even more. Activities, events, and work will be an even larger concern for me, in the coming months. I keep hoping for life to feel good, again. I have worked on ways to fill it all in, but I fall short. I'm terribly restless.
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