on: the 8th of march

it feels weird to be writing about my brother and my father on international women's day, but here we are. 

my brother james died 14 years ago today. he was 46. 

it feels weird to be writing about my brother on the anniversary of his death when i'm the same age he was when he died, but here we are. 

i've managed to keep myself just busy enough lately to not get completely bogged down in sadness when thinking about my father's birthday and the anniversary of his death a week or so apart, the anniversary of my mother's death to start women's history month, james' death date today, and my mother's birthday later this month. this is not a new coping mechanism by any means. sometimes past me makes great decisions and current me is along for the ride until my brain goes "wait, this isn't quite right" and i realize that another birthday/anniversary is coming up or just happened and then i have to feel things.

but this isn't all about me. this is about my brother and my father and how they helped make me the woman that i am. 

it's about how they showed up for the women in their lives so i'd know what to accept and what to call bullshit on. how they showed up for everyone in their lives, really, but particularly the women they loved. they loved out loud, if not always in words then by actions, even when some of it seemed contradictory. never did i ever have to wonder if they loved me, even if we didn't verbalize it. i kinda wish we'd said it more, but here we are. 

if you've ever seen my work ethic and determination in action, blame them. if you've ever wondered how or why i go so hard for the people i love? that's all them. the mentality of "everybody eats" or "if i got it, you got it" or however else you want to define it? yup, that's them.

it feels weird to be smiling through my tears while writing this, but here we are. 

i'm here because they were there for me. i hope i can keep being there for me and mine like they were for theirs. 💜