The Month of Memorial Day

1 year, 5 months and 22 days. 17 months and 22 days. 77 weeks and 0 days. 539 days. That’s how long it’s been since I picked up my entire life, packed it, and started over. I felt so much comfort for so long in NJ; having all my friends and family there, having Tim and my father’s resting place directly across the street from my job, having Tim’s favorite bar right down the street. But I came to realize that all of that was not helping me, it was hindering me from being happy, from discovering what else was out there, from getting away from “it” being in my face EVERY.SINGLE.DAY. When I first moved to Florida, I was asked what made me decide to move. I said the only thing that had ran through my mind over and over again before I landed in Florida….”In NJ I’m ‘Tim McGill’s sister, here; I’m Megan McGill.” Let me Quentin Tarantino you for a minute and post preface that with the fact that I have absolutely no issues with being “Tim McGill’s Sister”, but I wanted something new. I wanted to take a risk and I wanted to, for once, be the one that walked away. Without that sounding absolutely terrible and heartless, let me say that the last 3 1/2 years of my life have been filled and overwhelmed with abandonment. I suppose the inner sanity in me spoke up and said “it’s time to live”. So I left. I left everything I loved, I left everything I despised, I left everything that made me cry, made me laugh, made me angry. And as I drove 15 hours south with all of mine and Tim’s belongings that I inherited, I tried to remember it all. I tried to remember what put me on that road and what my purpose in life was. It was a fog. When I crossed over into Jacksonville, FL I realized (as tired as I was) what my purpose was. We all lose important people in our lives, whether they’re still tangible or whether we can no longer grasp their embrace. My purpose in life has fluctuated and it’s fluctuated because I’m so terribly distraught over the loss of my brother and father that I’ve spent the last 1 year, 5 months and 22 days; 17 months and 22 days; 77 weeks and 0 days and 539 days discovering it all. My conclusion? I ended up discovering more about myself than my purpose. I’ve met some INCREDIBLE people, I’ve gone on some pretty awesome adventures, I’ve pushed my body past whatever I thought I could ever push it. I’ve done what my brother would have done. I’ve done what my father would have done: Taken A Risk. I’ve come a long way and I’ve shook many hands along the way and none of those hands have ever escaped my mind; for you have all helped mold me. This month is the toughest month for me, it’s tougher than my brother’s birthday, his anniversary, Christmas, etc. This month highlights what this war has done to this country, what it has taken and what it has brought together. Because despite our losses, we have ALL come together and this is why I’m writing this; my first blog ever, to reinforce the RT Foundation’s mission which is to drive home the point that YOU ARE NOT ALONE. I’m living proof that hitting rock bottom will always offer a rope to help you climb out. I’m thankful for where I am today. Look around you; happiness might be in a place that you never thought it would be. I'll never forget my brother or my father, I carry them with me every day and sometimes accepting reality is what will bring you closer to your purpose. I've only just begun my journey, I've only just started to accept, but I do know that I will keep the legacies of those we lost alive until the day I, myself am no longer breathing. To all our fallen soldiers, I salute you….and every time I see your names, I say them out loud. This month isn’t your month, every month of the year is.

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