Life After Death

It's 5:30 a.m. and I should be making my way to the gym right now, or eating my favorite yogurt breakfast, or trying to decide between watching 21 Jump Street for the 100th time or a basketball saturated episode of Mike and Mike.  Instead, I'm sitting on my mother's couch, listening to the ticking of her loud ass clock, and watching Amira sleep peacefully on our new air mattress.

You died exactly one year ago today.

I know that I'm supposed to have something profound to say about your passing, about what I've learned, about how we've coped.  I know that I'm supposed to have amassed a bevy of philosophical musings regarding the nature of grief, the path to overcoming depression, and the fragility of life but the truth is, I can't focus on any of that bullshit right now.  Instead one thought keeps running through my mind.

Khadija, how do you want to LIVE?

The one thing I've truly learned this year is that the old cliche is true:

Life is really fucking short.

It's too short not to apologize to those we've wronged.

Too short not to tell our loved ones just how much they mean to us.

Too short not to take chances.

Too short not to fix that which can be fixed.

Too short to waste precious time holding on to that which is beyond repair.

I've lived the majority of my life vacillating between two default conditions: fear and regret.

No more.

Life is too short.

I'm so grateful to God for the years I got to spend with Lorenzo.  He was my life partner, my baby's daddy, my best friend.  He was the kick in the ass I CONSTANTLY needed, he was the annoying voice of reason I hated to hear.  He was my biggest cheerleader and my biggest critic.  He was the therapist I never wanted, and the comedian who refused to get off the stage.  He was a man of God, a man of science and a man of his word.  He was a complete and a total know it all.   A never ending pain in my ass.

He was the love of my life.

Last night, while helping my best friend clean out her deceased mom's home, Michele asked me what I want to do today, to commemorate Lorenzo's passing.  I've thought about that all night and here's what I've come up with.

I want to spend today living and loving fearlessly.

I want to celebrate the memories of our life together.

I want to begin the process of moving forward without him.

Simply put, I want to live.