Since loosing Jude, I have made the phrase; ” it is what it is” my mantra for most days. My astrological sign makes me a dreamer, while my DNA makes me a realist with a knack for wanting to control most (if not all) aspects of my life.  Trouble is, when I lost Jude,  I also lost the piece of me that glued all of those elements together – the dreamer who knew when to pull the control levers to get the most realistic outcome.   So now, I’m still left with all of those elements, except I can’t seem to put them all together.  This is why, I have now come to heavily rely on the phrase “It is what it is'”.  It’s the holding place, the string that I have taped to each of those elements that enable me to temporarily make some sense of it all while appeasing to my controlling, dreaming realist self.

52 weeks post Jude, the phrase continues to be the holding ground.   In between week 1 and week 52, I have searched for that glue piece that use to harmoniously intertwine the characteristics of me together, but it’s impossible to find it in the rubble of my broken heart and my old life.  Not all pieces were lost in the rubble, but many core ones simply turned to dust – forcing me to just work with those that were left or build new ones.

Between week 1 and week 52, amongst the rubble, I’ve encountered prayers, words of comfort, angel charms, teddy bears, love rocks, postcards, letters, decorative wreaths, balloon releases and birthday cakes — each one tried and tested to fit within the space that would “glue” those key elements back together.  Some fit easier then others.  Some just don’t seem to stick at all.   Leaving me back to the default of ” it is what it is”.

Because, when I strip it all back.  When I line up all of those  failed attempts to glue me back together, I’m left with just me and the hole in my heart.  And that’s ok.  Because that’s exactly what truly is left.  There’s no first birthdays, no first steps, no first words, no first successful trips to the potty, no first haircuts, no first days of school, no first knee scrapes, no first bicycle ride, no first sleepover, no first crush, no first broken heart, no first love, no first day of new job, no first anything – ever.

That glue that use to perfectly bind those pieces of me no longer exists.  It’s no longer strong enough to hold the old pieces and the new pieces of me together.  All of those tried and tested and failed attempts are simply just coping mechanisms.  Mechanisms that get you from week 1 through to eternity.

And that’s ok – because, it is what it is.