It's been 3,653 days since I last saw Shayna.
Ten years.
Three leap years.
A thousand lifetimes in one.
Frankly, I had no intention of being here this long. The moment she left, I wanted to go, too. My immediate response was, “Take me now.” I wasn’t interested in surviving this loss—much less living with it. The idea of planning for the future felt insulting.
People would talk about “next year” or “down the road,” and I’d silently (or not so silently) scream, What makes you think I care about any of that now? My entire being had collapsed into a single point in time—the moment everything changed.
About a week after she passed, I started a blog. Not because I wanted to write, but because I needed to. I needed to mark the days—one by one—like tally marks on a prison wall. Each post was a tick on my jail sentence. A record of how long I’d have to roam this Earth before I got my release.
Somewhere in that early fog, I brokered a shaky agreement between the shattered human side of me and the part of me who sent me here. I had 15 amazing years with Shayna. Here’s the deal, Maybe—just maybe—I can do 15 more. A spiritual plea bargain, if you will. A contract renewal.
Now we’re at 10 freaking years. A decade. My God.
Ten years of sunrises I’ve seen without her.
Ten years of walks, contemplating my life and hers.
Ten birthdays. Ten holidays. Ten empty chairs.
Ten years of learning that empty doesn’t always mean absence.
Because here’s the thing: she’s still with me.
Not in some vague, poetic way. I mean actually with me. I feel her. I dream her. I get signs—some subtle, some undeniable. She’s woven into my days like sunlight through blinds—there when I least expect it, illuminating everything.
💫 She’s taught me that death is not the opposite of life—it’s a continuation on a different frequency.
🌱 That grief isn’t a wound to heal—it’s a garden to tend.
🔥 That I can be broken, burning, aching—and still be becoming something sacred.
I miss her every single day. But I’m not just surviving anymore. I’m living. I’ve built something from the rubble—something that helps others walk their own grief path. I’ve found purpose, love, and even moments of joy. Shayna has never stopped being my teacher.
To those of you who’ve walked this road with me—thank you. To those just stepping onto it—take heart. This pain will change you, but it doesn’t have to destroy you. There’s light here, too. You just have to let your eyes adjust.
And as for me?
Well, we’re at Day 3,652. Ten years down. Five to go on the contract I renewed. I may re-up when I hit 15, depending on how things look. There's a clause for that. Then again, maybe I'll get early release. You never know.
It’s up to the Boss.
And Shayna.
I listened to this song daily the summer she left.
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