It’s been a morning filled with reflections.

Jordan would have been 25 today. And my Facebook newsfeed is filled with shock and sadness over the death of Robin Williams; another beloved soul lost to the pain of depression.

I haven’t written much lately. I was feeling too fragmented as the anniversary of Jordan’s death approached. Not shattered, not broken – but certainly very vulnerable. I was more than ready to head to the cabin for a few weeks – to gather my pieces together and breathe them back to life. To watch the sunrise and listen to the rhythm of the waves. I have to admit that after the pain of last fall, I was worried that the peace I always experienced at the cabin was lost forever. I am grateful to have discovered that the stillness of the early morning, the familiar scent of the forest, and the company of the crows have once again worked their magic.

July 30th rolled in with rumbling thunder and flashing lightening. When I was little and a storm rolled in at the lake, my Dad would say “There’s your Grandpa”. So as I sat there in the middle of the night and watched the lightening light up the night, I imagined my two Conley’s – Jack and Jordan – having a wee drink and putting on a fantastic show for those of us left behind.

We spent the evening of the anniversary cruising the lake until the stars came out – just the three of us. Friends had put together a little survival kit and we drank the wine, ate the chocolate, lit the sparklers and dove into the dark water with the glow sticks. Balloons decorated the boat – we celebrated his life as well as mourned his loss.

It was a peaceful evening – and I found myself stunned by the realization that we have achieved what we thought was impossible 12 months ago – we survived. I certainly wouldn’t categorize it as thriving, and I’m not even sure that’s even a possibility in our new life, but small steps and deep breaths have gotten us to a point I couldn’t imagine a year ago.

And the world spins madly on…