It still hurts. Its still raw.
Those were my thoughts as Taps echoed through the rain in lower Manhattan. Three buglers playing, as they do every year.
I remember when I was a cub scout, we would hear Taps being played to signal the end of the day. This day however, seems like it will never end.
It has often been said that I live in the past too much, that I am nostalgia obsessed and focus too much on memory. This is true, I will attest to that. A few days ago, at a doctors appointment, Christmas was brought up, I forget by whom, but it started a lively, joyful conversation, and recollection of my favorite Christmas. It was actually 2001.
It was our first year in our new home. That, combined with the events of 4 months prior provided a heighted sense of togetherness and joy. Upwards of 75-80 people were here throughout the day, with parking becoming so difficult at times, people had to park on the front lawn, which while spacious enough to accommodate, did result in a rather..."trashy" look.
Our house was decorated with much holiday joy, my mother made sure. It has often been said that, "Christmas vomits" on our house, something I still take a sense of pride in.
This would be one of the final times in which I can recall 3 of my best friends and I being together as a group. In some way, maybe I knew this was the case, because I was adamant about getting a photo of us together. Since then, only one I still speak to, His is a friendship, a bond, nay, a brotherhood I will forever cherish.
I look back on that Christmas with fondness more so than others, if for no other reason than the fact that many since have become increasingly less joyful. Loss of family members, particularly my mother in 2003, grandmother in 2005, cousin and uncle in 2013, have left a gaping hole.
Combine this with my own issues leading to my alienation of many friends...and the holidays have become a lonely, melancholic time of year for me. I am cognizant of this fact each year, yet I persist in the traditions in the hopes that I can once again regain that sense of joyfulness and togetherness on which I took such delight in 21 years ago. I am aware nothing will compare to that day, but if I could in some way bring about a new memory filled with positivity and joy, than perhaps I can finally say I have moved on.
This is not to say I will not remember, for memory is, and always will be a powerful part of my psyche.
Each year on this day, I try to keep my morning schedule as close to that day as I can. This is how I choose to honor those lost. Its my own way of allowing myself to grieve, and to cope. I am certain many find this yearly ritual bizarre to say the least, while others simply wish I would get over it.
To them, I ask, how does the way I chose to mourn matter to you? I try to empathize with as many people as I can. I try to see the world as they see it, this way I can better assist them through their struggles. Sometimes this works, sometimes not One thing I have gathered is that everyone copes differently, and the best way to help that person, is to ask them if you can help.
Though I will admit that over the past few years, this one especially, in the days preceding, I questioned why and if I should still do this.
Today I saw someone hang a flag outside their apartment window whilst in the middle of trip to the pier I was at 21 years ago. They saw me, wearing one of the only remaining, very worn FDNY t-shirts I still have and gave me a thumbs up. I returned the gesture and felt...vindicated. "Perhaps people are still remembering," I thought to myself.
I don't let the memory of the day dictate my life. I no longer carry its weight with me, but I do not simply disavow its existence. So will I return to the pier next year? I'm not sure. There is a whole year ahead in which I get the opportunity to build new memories on.
There is no time limit on grieving. If anyone is aware of that, its me. While I am doing this to honor, I am also doing it out of habit and routine.
Having Asperger's makes routine a very large part of my life. This can be debilitating at times, and occasionally I not only recognize the need to overcome these issues, I do manage to make progress. This is due in part to the weariness of it all, combined with a good therapist.
A few months ago I had brain surgery. It is supposed to give me a new lease on life. Though I am still recovering, I desperately look forward to the chance to make new memories to look back upon. Maybe I will accomplish something heretofore impossible...at least in my mind.
If I could offer you any advice based upon my experiences with this day, it would be this;
Remember that from the bad days, good days and great memories will always prevail. Don't let the negative blind you from the positive.