Lately, I’ve found myself crying more often — thinking about Kerry.
It’s still hard sometimes to wrap my head around the fact that he’s gone.

It’s been over a year since we parted ways, but even then, I took comfort in knowing he was still somewhere on this earth. I never hoped for reconciliation; we were long past that point. But knowing he was alive brought a strange kind of peace.

And now, that peace is gone.

The Inevitable

Everyone — including me — knew Kerry wouldn’t be here much longer. His health had been declining for years. You could see it in the photos I’d post on Facebook: each one showing a little more frailty than the last.

I knew the minute he left my care, it wouldn’t be long. I just didn’t expect it to happen the way it did — in a rollover crash.

His family didn’t take care of him when he lived in Idaho; I didn’t expect they would now.
His life was cut short — far too short — by addiction.

The Visit

Last night, my longtime friend Jake came over — totally unplanned. I had ordered a pizza, planning to spend the evening with my dogs and a movie. Then I saw Jake pop up on Scruff, sent him a quick message, and the next thing I knew, he was on his way over with a bottle of wine.

That’s just the kind of friend Jake is.

We sat on the deck, overlooking my messy flower beds and the mountains beyond. We talked for hours — the kind of deep, easy conversation you only have with the people who know you down to your bones.

Jake and I go back further than Kerry and I ever did. He was actually there the night I met Kerry — the one who pushed me to invite him back to the hot tub at my roommate’s place. So maybe I do owe Jake for that.
Or maybe I should be plotting revenge. (Kidding… mostly.)

The Waves of Grief

These past few weeks, something has been stirring — memories, emotions, maybe both.
Seeing people I haven’t seen since Kerry passed has brought a flood of sympathy and old feelings. One woman even placed her hand gently on my chest and asked how my heart was doing — if I was okay. That simple act of kindness caught me off guard.

It took me right back to those first few days after Kerry died — when messages poured in, when everyone was checking on me, when the grief was still raw and jagged.

I thought I was done grieving.
I even said my official “goodbye” to Kerry in late June and believed I’d made peace with it.
But grief has its own timeline.

My heart and soul clearly aren’t finished yet.

So I’ve let the emotions come.
I’ve cried when I needed to.
I’ve felt it all — and that’s okay.

The Good Memories

I do miss Kerry.
We had so many good times together. Until we didn’t.

But I still remember the laughter, the travels, the small moments that built a life.
Those memories are mine to keep, and I’ll never forget them.

I don’t know if I’ll ever find another love like the one we had in our best days.
Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t.
I’ve been burned recently, sure — but I’m not going to let that define me.

It’s time to focus on healing — on becoming stronger, mentally and physically.

It’s time to get back to me.

— Standing on the Edge