Tomorrow is his birthday
by Zoe
He was on the road last year, he came home I sent him his present, He loved it, but it was not the same, he kept all the packing until I got there so he could show me all of it. The joy of us being together, that was what mattered the most. I was supposed to be taking care of him, spoiling him, wrapping him up. I told him once the safest place he could ever be was in my arms. That is where he died.. So much for my word meaning anything. I want to be with him. Why is that so bad, I keep hearing it is not my time? Who is to judge time? I do not raise children; I do not take care of parents. There is just me. And the person I want to be with is on the other side. Why should I stay here? Hoping that the veil will thin and he would be near. I talked to a friend who is a medium and does ghost hunting. She said I was unusual because most people when pressed genuinely would not want to see or be with the ghost of a loved one, they would be afraid. She said I am one of the only people who she is sure; not only craves it but also would revel in the joy of being with the one I lost. I talked with member of a Kabalistic temple. He sent me a book about how they view death and the thinning of the veils. I am supposed to feel him closer, I feel nothing. I talked to Christians who say to take comfort in faith. How do you do that? When I found out he was sick I asked no, I begged that he be spared, I would have gone in his place, I was ignored and the kindest, gentlest most wonderful man was put though a horrible painful death. Look to faith, belief, whatever you want to call it, all of that did nothing to help him, what comfort am I to take in it now? There is no comfort. It is like wandering in and out of doors of a vacant building. There is an occasional sign of what life would have been there, but nothing left. In addition, as you look deeper, it just gets darker, until there is no light. He was my light, he is gone. There is no other light for me. There is the pain in my heart that translates into physical pain just from the loss of him. There are tears that still freely flow. I cannot watch TV, I cannot listen to music, there is nothing that does not spark a memory and make me cry. I see others around me, as they step away, not wanting to be caught in my tide of despair. I do not blame them. In fact, solitude is easier; I do not have to apologize for my pain or my tears. I do not have to explain why I do not want to eat or why going out does not interest me. Alone I can hold his memory. I have written here before, there are those who read here who wondered if I heard what was said. I do, and I appreciate what I do hear. And I do thank you, HH for your input, I read what you write, I know how hard you try through your own pain. But my grip is slipping on the blanket I wrap around myself to move forward. One-step in front of the other is becoming more difficult. I wrote this today because I knew I could not write it tomorrow. Tomorrow is his birthday. I cannot do this without him.
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