Sometimes it feels like I’m stranded in a barren land.
So far from where I started but it feels like I’ve been running for so long, just to find that I’m back at the beginning.
The earth continues to turn with no concern for my pain.
Life hasn’t stopped just because he is gone.
Hanging by a string, telling myself to keep holding on. Keep doing the basics. Day in and day out.
Celebrate life and joy whenever I can because tomorrow isn’t promised.
I had a long talk with a dear friend who called me out on my bullshit when I said that I was “fine” and that I was doing “ok.”
She helped me to see my grief and my pain differently. To be more vocal about it. Using a pain scale similar to how doctors use them.
1 – 10, 1 being something I will never see again and 10 being how I felt the morning I got the call.
I told her that most days I operate in the 4-5 range. It can be a 7 or 8 on days that I need to write. She called my daily pain a bearable or tolerable pain. I don’t know why but I have such a strong negative reaction to those words. To me, tolerable and bearable are very passive words. Like I don’t have a choice in the matter, I have to tolerate the pain. I have to bear this burden. While accurate, I need something more positive.
I told her I would find a different phrase for me. I did some research and have come up with: “I’m not having a good day but I’m still here and doing the best I can.” To me, that means that I’m not doing as good as I could be but I’m also not doing as bad as I have been. I’m actively trying to be better.
It’s fluid, so I can change and adjust as necessary.
I’ve been working on setting boundaries and recognizing things that would cause me to have a set back. My coping methods have changed some as well.
I’ve been trying to reach out instead of shrinking away when I’m hurting.
It’s still very hard for me to do that. I don’t want to bring other people down. I don’t want them to feel pain just because I am.
I am moving forward but I haven’t forgotten the love that we shared. I am living with the fact that I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye or to thank him for loving me. For being my best friend and having my back in tough situations.
Losing him has taught me a deeper way to love. To know that our time is limited so to not waste it on people or things that don’t bring happiness or light to my world.
I have been trying to stay balanced. To know that in order to stay balanced, I can’t let anyone love me less than I love myself.
There is a lyric that I have always loved that goes:
“I’m fine in the fire, I feed on the friction. I’m right where I should be, don’t try and fix me.”
Yes, I am broken but it doesn’t mean it’s up to someone else to fix me. I have to do that myself.
I had a really rough day a few days ago.
I was smiling and chatting with customers on the outside, knowing without fail that I would be on my knees in the shower, sobbing later that night.
I made it into the car before the tears started filling my eyes.
I drew myself the hottest bath possible and sunk in as far as I could go and just let the tears fall.
He came to me then, like he never has before.
In my minds eye, he peeked his head into the doorway and asked me what was wrong. I told him that it was a really bad day and he asked me if I wanted him to sit with me. I said yes and he came in, shut the door and slowly sat down with his back against it. Groaning as his joints popped and complaining that he wouldn’t be able to get back up. He just sat there, hands on his knees, playing on his phone with one hand and holding my hand with the other. Just letting me look at his beautiful eyes as they twinkled at me and he smiled his secret smile. So full of mischief and joy. I talked to him and told him how much I loved him and missed him. It made my heart lighter to see him and I was able to finally breathe.
Then he was gone and I was alone in the now cool water.
It was beautiful and even though I know it didn’t really happen, it brought me peace and I have been able to carry on.
As I sit, looking at his stocking hanging next to his orb, it’s so hard to comprehend the fact that he will be gone two years soon.
How is it possible that much time has passed already.
My heart still hasn’t fully accepted it and I still forget sometimes that I’ll never see him again. On nights like this, I just lay in bed and hope that I fall asleep before I fall apart.
I’m still grieving what was and what will never be.
After all this time?