A year ago, I woke up to a voicemail and a text.
The voicemail was from my close friend, who said, “You’re going to wake up to some terrible news.”
The text asked me if it was true that Bruce Nazarian passed away.
Not that I’ve put myself back together from having lost my grandmother just some scant three weeks before, but that news was what broke me.
And it’s been a very difficult year. Putting myself back together has been first priority, and these are some of the days where I feel I’ve not quite succeeded at it.
My grandmother was 95 years old. While painful, her death was not unexpected, and it was something of a miracle that she had held on as long as she had. We had more than a few close calls with her at the last years, but it was something that my mom and I have seen coming. And if that’s the case, you have time to brace for it, to steel yourself – not that it’s less painful, but there is something to be said for forewarning. It’s easier to accept with a forewarning.
With Bruce… there was no warning. Just woke up to this news, and it cost me more strength than I could muster at the time to go into work that day.
The irony of losing someone whom I thought of and regarded as a father figure and finding out on my actual father’s birthday is not lost on me. At all.
The one thing I did learn from this is that there’s some losses that you just don’t “get over”. Those are the losses that you just learn to live around. The reminders crop up everywhere; you skirt around and try to ignore them, because you know too well that you risk falling apart at them. You catch yourself on about to dial that number. And you especially miss just being able to talk to that person about anything.
There have been more hits, but that’s the one that I haven’t recovered from. Not all hits heal. Not all bruises fade.
This one is likely such a one.
But – as before, the only choice I really have is to keep going, and that’s precisely what I’ve been doing.