Hiatus


What do you say after a year-long hiatus? What excuses come to mind when you all but fall off the face of the Earth? What apologies touch your lips? What promises escape from your hands, cluttering the words of a dusty blog? What? What? What?

What do you say to a friend after a long break, especially if you are aware that you do not keep in touch as often as a good friend should? It is generally accepted that you catch up on news the other person might have missed. You talk about the time in between phone calls or visits. You brag about successes and seek comfort for all other things.

I am having trouble coming to terms with whether this blog is my friend or if my readers are in this analogy .

My last blog – if you can remember that long ago – did not have a lot of news in it. I was still pregnant and I was still working. I think I lost my blogging spark somewhere in the year before that post though. It felt… mediocre, routine. I remember some blogs I have written that still make me tear up. I remember others that made me want to get out and accomplish something. Anything.

The last few blogs of 2012 and the first few of 2013 were almost just checking the block.

Even now I face a bit of the routine feeling I felt before. I am checking the block and updating on news, but I am also delaying the inevitable.

Postponing the update.

Holding off.

Skirting.

Dragging my feet.

And yet, I do have to get to it eventually.

In the year since my previous blog…

My niece, Hazel, was born.

I turned thirty.

My son, Riley, was born.

I stopped working to be a stay-at-home mom.

I was forced by circumstance to delay OCS until 2015.

We got a new car.

I got to say goodbye to my great grandmother. How many people do you know that can say they had thirty years with a great grandparent?

My nephew, Ethan, celebrated his sixth birthday.

My niece, Harmony, celebrated her fifth birthday.

My niece, Haven, celebrated her third birthday.

My sister died.

No matter how many bullets I put in this post, I cannot escape that fact. I cannot change the truth that my sister – the person I relied on most – is gone. The one person with whom I could be totally – and often brutally – honest is gone. The one who constantly pulled me from those dark places is gone. The person who taught me more than any one other person is gone.

My sister is gone.

Even now, eight months later, that phrase is the first in my head when I wake and the last in my head before I fall asleep. If I wake up in the middle of the night, that one thought parades around in my brain before allowing me to become a fully-functioning wife, mother, daughter, friend… whatever.

My sister is gone.

My sister is gone.

My 28-year-old sister died.

I am sure there will come a blog that truly covers how I feel and what I think about all that has happened, specifically about my sister. I am sure that I will go into greater detail about the stupid, bad luck that brought my family into this emotional disaster. That will have to wait until I am strong enough. When I can sit across the desk from my husband and write without the tears telling him the subject of my sadness.

Someday, I hope I can write a blog that could adequately display not only my emotions, but how much my sister impacted my life in every way.

And how lost I feel without her.

Until then, let us hope that I can make blogging a habit again.

If I can’t, I will have to find some other positive avenue to wrangle these emotions into a more controllable and tolerable disposition.

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