Last week I shared a poem written by someone else because I was trying to heed advice not to write about terrible experiences as you’re having them. I’m not sure I agree with last-week me. At minimum, I am in a conundrum: I think there is wisdom in that advice, but I also made a commitment to myself to post to this blog every week this year and I am having trouble coming up with anything else to write about.

Two weeks ago my 18-year old nephew passed away. The first week was spent in a whirl of activity and familial gatherings of support. The second week I went back to my life, my internship, classes, volunteer activity. Friday we traveled to see friends in Detroit, a long planned weekend trip scheduled around a Lumineers concert. It’s been a good trip and it’s wonderful to see good friends who I wish lived closer.

But I am not feeling myself. I have not experienced grief like this before. I’ve lost people, but not people this close or this young. I don’t know what to expect, so I’m trying to be mindful and allow the emotions to rise and fall as they come. Everything feels a bit heavy, a bit foggy. Sadness just seems to hover. Almost every night I’ve had dreams that relate to his death. They don’t accurately reflect the real circumstances, but it is definitely what they are about. This is strange for me – I rarely dream so directly of what is going on in my life.

There isn’t a lot to say – perhaps another reason not write this yet. I just keep thinking “The only way forward is through,” and I think that’s right. Maybe over time some of the fog will lighten and there will be some sort of sense to be made, though I’m not expecting the latter. I don’t think this is something to be gotten over, but rather something to learn how to live with. We can move forward, but maybe not away. Life marches on for those of us lucky enough to be here. In all of its mystery and strange composition of darkness and light, life marches on.

Forward and through, but not away.