I got an email yesterday from NaBloPoMo announcing that the theme for May is "Maybe".

Pun intended? I suspect so.

But, at least it prompted me to take a look at my defunct blog, which had apparently imploded while I was away barely dealing with realities that still feel too enormous to condense into words. As it is, I have sat here, staring at a blinking cursor trying to decide how best to write that two months ago I lost a friend. How do you type that without it sounding cheap or hollow? Which would actually be appropriate in some way, as that's how much of my life feels at the moment.

My friend died and my life is just the same.

Work is work, and family is family, and rain is rain. And I am me.

I don't understand how that is possible. How someone who had been a part of your entire life can be gone and the alarm clock stills goes off every morning as if nothing at all has changed. Because everything has changed. Just the tiniest bit by the whole-of-reality's standards, but enough that sometimes I can feel the difference, and it is sad and overwhelming and reassuring, all at the same time.

And maybe that will fade, the feeling of different-ness that catches me off guard whenever he crosses my mind. And maybe it won't.

That's the thing about maybes: they can be fickle; they can be cruel.

Especially when you're not sure which maybe you'd prefer.