nine years

today is nine years since ronen left for work and never came back. it feels like yesterday and a hundred years ago. it feels like it happened to me and it happened to somebody else. all of it.

grief is such a racket these days. all the psychological terms are instantly available to define the slightest peak or valley. disassociation; ptsd; ocd vacuuming. (i made that last one up.) i’m grateful that it’s part of the discourse but also very territorial about the word. i’ve earned that right.

june creeps up every year. may is a cluster of end of year events and waxing appointments and all the while, my anxiety starts to simmer; a low boil in my chest. but it doesn’t evaporate. it keeps bubbling, ever so slightly, until the fall.

anyway. i’m coming here to write since instagram is over. to tell you that as much as the world is a dumpster fire – and it really, truly is just get behind the wheel in atlanta – i’m grateful to still be here. because i could not be here in an instant.

i choose to believe that the soul goes on; that ronen’s is everywhere all at once but especially with his sons. his gorgeous, kind, funny and smart sons. oh boy, here come the waterworks. jesus.

it’s the part of his death that really kills me. for him; for them; for me. no one else was in the delivery room and no one else wrapped these babies up like burritos at two in the morning. i long to turn to ronen at a graduation. and smile; both of us beaming at each other with pride. look at them! just look at them!

today, i invite you to do what ronen was doing nine years and one day ago. kiss your partner. call your mom. eat a banana. go for a run. walk around the house in your underwear. dance with your kids.

an instant lasts forever.