Grief Marks the Months, but His Spirit Still Inspires

I am now 18 months into a life I never imagined possible.  When I think about 18 months, it was the length of my two pregnancies.  It was the length of my master’s degree program.  Both of those things flew by. Both of those things were happy things.  And both of those things had a definitive end date.  So, this past 18 months is in no way like the others.    

I came across this image the other day and I don’t think I’ve seen anything describe grief as perfectly.  Grief is not linear. One minute I’m fine and the next I’m not. 

For example, our family offers Connor’s fraternity brothers a scholarship to help pay their dues. There’s an application process that includes maintaining a certain GPA, writing an essay and submitting a letter of recommendation.   I was excited and happy to be able to review the applications, especially the essays.  UNTIL one of them recounted in his essay a conversation he’d had with Connor.  He talked about how Connor told him to never be complacent and always keep finding a new way of building his success.   Oh boy!  Sitting on the couch, legs crossed, computer on my lap, football on the tv and I started balling. My poor husband had no idea what was happening.

That was Connor. It was like I could hear him saying it. He was so focused on being successful and he was more than happy to pull anyone and everyone along with him.    His passion was contagious, and he wanted to see others find theirs as well.  I hope his fraternity brother cherishes that advice and carries it with him throughout his life.  I continue to marvel – even 18 months later – at how mature beyond his years he was.  And that just adds to the pain because I think about what that would’ve meant for his life.

He would’ve been a senior this year, graduating in May 2026.  He would’ve been starting his life.  I promised him when he graduated, I’d take him anywhere in the world he wanted to go as a graduation present. I was so curious where he would’ve picked.  I will forever wonder what and who he would’ve been.  Instead, I’m left with who I think he would’ve been.  Those two things are in no way equal.

I don’t have an end date for when I get to see Connor again, but I promise I think about it a lot. Not in a morbid way necessarily, but more in a “I can’t wait to see him again” way.   In the meantime, I will try and take his advice and not be complacent and keep finding ways of building his success.  By “his" success I mean finding ways to honor him, keep his name alive and help others the way I know he loved to do.

No matter one month, 18 months or 240 months, grief sucks.   ∞