Almost One Year Without Treven

Lately I’ve realized something about grief.

It doesn’t always show up the way people expect. It doesn’t always look like tears or quiet days alone. Sometimes it looks like living your life, smiling, working, talking, laughing with people… while carrying something heavy in the background the entire time.

That’s where I’ve been lately.

From the outside, most days look normal. I’m still showing up. Still doing the things that need to be done. Still finding reasons to smile.

But in the back of my mind, there’s been this constant awareness that hasn’t really left me.

April is coming.

And with it… one year without Treven.

It’s strange how the mind counts time like that. Even when life keeps moving, a part of you is quietly keeping track of the days. I’ll catch myself in a moment…driving somewhere, sitting at my desk, laughing at something….and the thought will slip in again:

It’s almost been a year.

A whole year since we lost him.

Somehow it feels impossible. Like it was just yesterday. And at the same time, like we’ve lived an entire lifetime without him here.

Grief is funny that way. It lives quietly beside you. It doesn’t always interrupt the day, but it never fully leaves either.

So lately I’ve been surviving through the smiles. Real smiles. Real moments. But also with the all-knowing weight of April hanging around in my head every single day.

And if you’ve walked through loss, you know exactly what that feels like.

The truth is, grief doesn’t mean life stops. It just means love had somewhere deep to root itself. The ache we carry is the evidence of how much someone mattered.

Treven mattered.

He mattered to his family.

He mattered to his friends.

And his life left a mark that a year of time could never erase.

So as April approaches, the days feel a little heavier. But they also feel like a reminder of something else too….how deeply he was loved.

And love like that doesn’t disappear.

Even after a year.

It just becomes something we carry with us every day.