Someday I hope to understand how our brain works, to understand all the little things that go on behind the scenes, mostly unnoticed, that influence our thoughts and behaviors. Today I awoke in a melancholic mood, followed by tears that I cannot seem to control. As always I ask, “What is wrong with you?” Then I thought about the date, August 22, 2011, six months ago Josh died. I still have not quite understood why my pain is so profound, so deep, so real, my soul aches. Maybe subconsciously, the demonstration of sorrow is a way to ensure that Josh’s memory is never lost. But surely there has to be a better way to pass the time, to keep his memory alive. Figures the one day I wear make-up, the tears stream unrentlessly down my face. But I realize my sorrow, my pain does nothing to memorialize his life, his gift. I know my pain is selfish, my wanting him here so I can feel better, fails to recognize that I should celebrate that he is free from the pains and sufferings of this world. However, at the same time, not everything in this world is pain and suffering while there is so much of that to be had there are so many good things, so much happiness and joy. Yet, maybe the sorrow is evidence there is some kind of closure still missing. That is the problem with death, you don’t know when its coming and it leaves you with so many unanswered questions. A while back I had a dream about Josh, unlike the dreams I had before where he was still alive, only to wake up to the reality that he was gone, in this dream I knew he was gone. We spoke of the afterlife and what it was like. I remember feeling that he was happy, I didn’t want to talk to him about the circumstances of his death because it didn’t seem to matter. For the first time since his death, I woke up from a dream about him not having to relieve every painful moment to realize that in fact his death was not a dream. But the pain of not ever, at least in this life, really having the opportunity to talk with him hurt. This is not at all what I wanted to write about, I didn’t want the focus to be on me and my pain when this is an effort to memorialize him and his life. Having experienced this profound loss, you approach life and death in such a different fashion. You fear losing them in your mind as your memories are all that you have. You think of the countless people whose lives have been lost and no one knows who they were. So I tried to think of a specific memory I have of him to share. I see glimpses of things when we were children, I see him at different points in his life. Of course trying to think of a specific moment or memory to share ensures they will all be cast in this web of obscurity. But what I do have are feelings. I remember how tender he was with our younger siblings, especially little Christy Cora. He loves her so much. He’d call her “pooter.” I don’t remember exactly where the name came from. Then I remembered with his own children, although not biologically his, the great love he showed them and how tender he was with them. I chose this picture of him with Braxton because it just displayed the love that Josh had for the little ones. I think about my writings about Josh’s gift and am again reminded of how I need to not let his loss be in vain and remember to make every moment count. So again, on the sixth month anniversary of his death, I recommit myself to be a better person, daughter, granddaughter, niece, cousin, sister, aunt, wife, friend, co-worker, employee, human being. I’m sure I’ll continually fall short but I will always have something to remind me. I love you Josh.