One, Year One.
(New York City)
I’ve used this site as a kind of map for this thing they call a “grief journey.” I took great comfort in the kind words offered by people I’ve never met, but who understood what it was like to suddenly lose the person you thought you’d grow old with.
I found my “grief twin” Chris on this site. We both lost our long-time partners around the same time, and the cycles of emotions we went through (and are going through) are nearly identical. I had two therapists when this all started, but I eventually stopped seeing both, because I found more value in talking to people like Chris.
This “grief journey” isn’t a journey at all. A year later, I’m where I started. I still expect him to come home. I still have the daily urges to call or sent text messages – which I’ve continued to do. I’ve narrowed my circle of friends to those who understand what I’m going through. I hate drama, and I don’t like being the center of attention, so I’ve kept a low profile the entire year. I’ve continued to work, to keep a daily routine going. I’ve done everything I can to be brave, and for the most part, I can function (with the help of medication).
But then, it would hit me. I’m alone. I’ll be alone tomorrow. And the day after that. I have to shut my eyes to force the thought out of my head. Most times, I let out a grunt, chastising myself for wallowing in self-pity. Thing is, I don’t feel sorry for myself. My problem is simple. I want him back.
Funny, I stopped going to church many years ago. I’ve gone back. To pray mostly, even though in the eyes of the church, I am a “threat to justice” (not my words). I just ask for one thing. I want him happy. That’s it.
No one knows what happens when our time ends. No one. But I know this. I will create heaven if I have to, if that is the one way we can see each other again.
I will never stop looking for you, D.