I woke up this morning to realize that it’s been 562 days since I last logged into this site and wrote something. It dawned on me when I was brushing my teeth, swaying half-asleep in front of the bathroom mirror. I don’t know why it did; it was one of those strange, disconnected thoughts one has after waking up from a troubled sleep that lasts less than five hours.
I’d just seen Negan beat the shit out of Glenn and Abraham the previous night (or to be precise, very early this morning), and those images stuck with me as I had tried to sleep. Somewhere in the walker-muddled mini nightmares that kept me tossing and turning, a tiny neuron sparked to life in the dark recesses of my brain and told me that I hadn’t written a blog post in quite a long time. Through my morning alarm and the obligatory emptying of a laden bladder, and halfway through brushing my teeth, my groggy brain managed to do the math and arrive at an accurate number of days since I’d last written something here. Google and a calculator confirmed the math to be accurate.
It’s been an eventful 562 days, to understate it. With most of these days being spent under the dark cloud of my little brother’s death, there were a few moments that made me want to continue running in this veritable rat race. I drew my strength from a lot of quarters – people and places special to me helped me untangle myself from the quagmires of bad memories I frequently wandered into.
My wife, who’s been an absolute rock beside me through all my cathartic misdemeanors, finally found her calling in documenting the world. Her photographs are now being exhibited internationally – a journey that’s taken its toll on her, both mentally and physically. A broken nose and a fractured hand bear witness to her fights with destiny.
My parents have shown remarkable feats of strength to pull themselves out of the despair that only comes with losing a child. The coffers of hope and optimism are slowly being filled again.
With a couple of days to go for this year to end, I wonder what lies in store for us in the new year. If anything, the past 562 days have taught me three things that I’d like to leave you with, in the hope that your 2018 be a bit better than your 2017.
- It’s never too late to mend bridges. Go on, pick up that phone and talk to your parents. Your siblings. Your grandparents. That friend you haven’t spoken to in over 562 days. Mend those bridges because you won’t be able to live with yourself when it’s too late.
- That thing you’ve been wanting to do forever, but haven’t found the time, money, or the courage to – do it. Do it today. Take that vacation you’ve always wanted to. Tie that bungee cord around your ankles and leap off the bridge. Take that risk you’ve always wanted to. You won’t find a better time to do it than right now.
- Believe in your ability to pursue happiness. That’s what we all want, right? Peace of mind and happiness – those little specks of light at the end of the tunnel. It’s why you’re working a 9-5 job. It’s why you’re saving up. It’s why you have a cheat meal every week. Those lights aren’t too far away. Believe in your ability to pursue them.
Here’s hoping that it won’t take me another year-and-a-half to come back here and write something. Oh, and wish you a fantastic year ahead. May your dreams come true and your nightmares stop.
One thought on “It’s Never Too Late For Anything”
Looks like a lot has happened since I lost touch with blogging. Congratulations on getting married!! Good notable points.