One Year

 The dreaded day.  I will forever hate this fucking day.  I probably have minor PTSD over this day.  It is one year ago today that Shadow passed away.

His toothbrush is still in the cabinet and his razor is still hanging by the mirror in the shower as if he’s going to come home any day now from California and need to shave and brush his teeth.

I still haven’t gone through three bags of his clothes.  His winter coat remains in the closet.  It’s a 3X, too big for everyone I know.

I’ve gone through everything else, multiple times, but that stuff, I can’t touch.  Not yet.  I’m not ready, but I know soon I will be.  I have a goal in my head.  The end of September.  When I have to transition to warmer clothes and go through the closet items yet again.  I will do it then.  I have to do it then.  I will donate the clothes, I will save his favorite T shirts for Ana and his poncho for her as well.  His hoodie I wear sometimes, I’m keeping, I haven’t washed it since the last time he wore it, it doesn’t smell like Tide anymore, nor him, nor weed.  A neutral clothing smell that does not distinguish an owner.

A few weeks ago, after my month long journal prompts, I sat down at his desk and cleaned that up.  I had done it before of course, but I had not gone through the drawers.  There wasn’t much there.  I took out his tools and organized my writing supplies.  I now need a proper box for the basic tool set I am left with.

It’s still his desk, daddy’s desk to Ana.  The stupid thing is from Walmart but of course I can’t get rid of it.  I sit in the chair he found in someone’s trash and I write or sew, or knit.  His grandmother’s perfume bottle is on the shelf, and so is that amethyst crystal he loved so much.

And I fucking miss him.  It does get easier as the days march on, blurred together now due to this plague.  But it doesn’t hurt any less.  Yes, I cry less, and now I can smile about the good old days and remember him fondly, but it’s still not fair or right, exactly how everyone says life is.

Now that the desk is done, I have the altar cabinet to go through.  I bought the cabinet after he died.  He would have loved it.  Like really loved it, or that’s what I tell myself, but his mom says it’s nice and agrees that “Ben would have loved that!”.  

All my tools were destroyed.  I am left with only his.  His sword and wands and chalice and for some bizarre reason five glass candles from the Botanica that I don’t even know the use for because I don’t practice Santería.  The man was a hot mess.  All these items were in a trunk that he kept in the garage for the Kia.  I emptied the trunk and put Ana’s toys in it.  She loves her daddy’s trunk.

When I host ritual it’s his tools I’m using.  I cast the circle with his wand, use moon water from his skull bottle.  The incense he bought, I’ve used up.  He would have loved the group I’ve become apart of.  They would have had a high priest too.  

Ana will get those tools when she is older either as keepsakes or to use as the tools of a working witch.  If Dino would like a wand, he can certainly have one or two, there are plenty.

We are lucky to have these memories of him.  The items he used and touched, pictures of him and videos.  Other stuff, my stuff that was thrown out, that stuff was just stuff, but this stuff, this was HIS stuff.  This is important stuff.  Our link to him and his energy.  The man I loved, the father of my daughter.

On tonight’s new moon, take a moment to reflect on love and manifesting more of it in your life, especially appreciation for the many people in your life.  Love for yourself as well.  May it grow with the waxing moon.

Blessed Be!

🌚