Opening Thoughts for 2026: Stream of Consciousness Edition

In the last few days, in the quiet, I’ve been thinking about a theme that ran through all my conversations with Drew post-November 2nd. Perhaps it hasn’t come up yet in my previous writings because the topic, or more precisely, the problem, is ancillary to the urgency and immediacy of death, mortality, finality. It has more to do with the work of living on, of continuing to exist in a world without Drew. How do I “keep going” into 2026 after sustaining this loss? What is the new “normal”? Does this feeling ever go away? These are some of the questions, the anxieties, the banalities, and the cliches I’ve been sitting with as I knit scarf after scarf with my canvas bag full of chenille yarn—cotton candy pink, ivory, metallic blue, and lavender. And between those rather banal questions that emerge from the heart of the grieving process, I keep returning to several tabs left open in conversation with Drew: more subtle, low-key, and understated but lingering, slow-burning. Pause. Let me explain a bit more clearly. 

First, it must be stated that Drew has always been patient—much more than me, clearly, for anyone who’s read the GPT series. That said, he wasn’t a pushover at all. He believed in boundaries, and in upholding them through action, not platitude or performance meant to control others. But, especially toward the end, he encouraged me to think beyond the fortress of boundaries—protecting the psychic and emotional inner sanctum—and begin releasing the pain that caused me to build the fortress at all. EXCUSE ME? My ego screams, she demands to be heard. What would it mean to release the pain, the remnants of suffering, that invisibly and perhaps insidiously structures how I connect, especially how much I connect, in the present? And how the fuck would I even go about that? 

This goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway: I wish I could ask Drew, again, for his take. There was so little time to pull on any of these threads. But from November 2nd onward, I got the overwhelming sense, both from Drew, the OPWC book, and from my own emotional necessity, that forgiveness must be a hinge of some sort. Forgiveness as release from that fortress, maybe leading to its dissolution (partial or total, TBD). So I’ve been working on forgiveness, where I think it matters. And where "does it matter"? A fair question, if anyone besides me has it. Provisional answer: forgiveness matters where love and understanding are also present. See how much Buddhism I’m learning, Drew, if you’re reading? A sharp application of that principle, huh? A+, asks my inner Lisa Simpson? … But I digress, as I was bound to do in a more stream of consciousness style of writing. Forgiveness matters (to me, and I’ve prioritized it) where love and understanding are also present. I can forgive where I can understand, as much as I can from my own positioning; and for me to seek understanding is an act of love, always. 

I’ll leave it at that, for tonight, since it’s now 11:50 pm and I don’t want to exceed the time frame I initially set for this exercise. I also want to keep these questions/ideas/threads simmering overnight, and pick them up tomorrow. I won’t be able to fully tackle love, understanding, and forgiveness in one free-write, after all. Probably not even in one lifetime, if I’m keeping it completely real. But I will try again tomorrow, maybe with the help of Hanh, or Lauren Berlant, or Sara Ahmed. 

More soon. The work continues tomorrow, and it will start earlier.

Monday January 5th, 11:00 pm to 11:53 pm