We just lit the candle for my Stepfather's Neshama. I can't believe it's already been two years since the brain tumor ended his life. The first year was extremely difficult on me. Sometimes the pain was so unbearable I debated ending my own life. My thoughts ran rampant every second for the first year after he died as I kept playing back in my head the last few moments before he left this world. The image still doesn't leave my mind, but at least I'm not haunted by it every waking second. I still remember the smell of the hospital room and the damp, cold feeling in the air as he lay there in the bed taking his last few breaths. I didn't know he was dying right then and there, but I held his hand and told him I loved him. I left the room, and they came and got me a few minutes later with the news that he was gone. Dead. The man who raised me for thirteen years, the man whom I fought with, studied with, played ball with, came to for guidance, education approval, and recognition was no longer going to be there for me. Sure, we fought a lot, but we built a relationship. All the years of fighting made our love real, because unlike biological relatives, we had to make it work on our own. From scratch. And we did.
As excruciatingly painful as the first year after his death was, it wasn't as painful this year. I still think about him a lot. I have the odd dream or nightmare. I miss him like hell and still feel pain, but it's a different kind of pain. But I've learned to accept the pain and I feel like I've established a relationship with him as soul. I guess nobody ever gets over a loved ones death, but we just get used to it.
My stepfather taught me a lot of things from math to swimming to bar mitzvah lessons to how to put on tefilin etc. but the most important thing I learned from him was that just because two people do not share the same blood doesn't mean they can't share the same love for one another as biological relatives.
May we merit the coming of Mashiach B'mheira V'yameinu and may we share only simchas.