Nothing helps anymore. Not therapy, not meditation, not spiritual connection, not talking, not distracting myself, not new activities or new people. I’ve quit all the therapy and PTSD treatments and yoga and acupuncture and spiritual groups and grief groups. I’m done. I’m tired of feeling, because all I feel is sorrow. There is no end, it will never fucking end. I’m a broken person and I accept this will be the rest of my life.
I go through the motions. I do activities. I try to work. I ride my bike. I try to catch up on the responsibilities that I have fallen so far behind with. I am around people. Sometimes not the right people but at least I am not alone. I make poor choices. I’m vulnerable and don’t care. And after all of it, I am still in the same place. Talking to his photograph, empty.
I have done many important things in my life and accomplished so much. My life was full before I met him. But he expanded my life in one year more than my life expanded in the previous 8. I cannot live without him. All the time I have lived and will live since he died is wasted.
I just want some peace. There is none.
If I am with you and something overwhelms me with sadness, please don’t try to distract me by telling me what I should be excited for. If you ask how I am, and I am truthful, please don’t try to change my focus by listing all of the things I should be grateful for.
If I am crying because it is a significant date (or I came across a photo of Albert unexpectedly, or one of our songs came on in a restaurant, or I see the motorcycle he road, or pass the market we used to go to together…) please don’t point out how I am so much more fortunate than others in the world and so I should decide to be happy.
If I am overwhelmed with a longing for the love of my life and my lost future, please, don’t try to fix my pain. There is no fixing it.
Instead, please hold out your hand and tell me that it is here for me to hold. That your shoulder is available for me to cry on, that your heart is big enough for both of us. That your angels are ready to fight my demons, and that you are here.
I don’t want to mark this day each month. I don’t want to feel it approaching, anticipating the flood of emotions that will come whether I want them to or not. I want to go back, to return to when we celebrated with joy 16th of each month, marking the day we met that July.
There is relief in nothing, and I now know there never will be. I can feel other things now, I learned it is possible to feel other emotions alongside the sadness, and I am grateful for that. But missing you never stops, it never lessens, I think about you every minute.
I have engaged in multiple forms of therapy, joined new activities, made friends, reached out (sometimes desperately) to old friends and even strangers, withdrew, attended grief groups, talked with mediums, gone to church, and meditated. I’ve done EFT, been to energy healers, acupuncture, reiki, and sacrocranial therapy. I prayed for death for six months. I’ve drank far too much and too often, distracted myself, and kept endlessly busy. I’ve talked and written to you endlessly and cried rivers of tears…
Still everything is unbearable without you.
I want to go back to the time when 8 was my number – my birthday month, my numerology number, my race number – my lucky number. I hate that I mark this day each month as the day you died. I hate all of this.
I was I asking the Universe “Why?” Saying to myself, “I don’t understand WHY the Universe (or God or life) would have me go through this. Again. I went through this once already and spent many, many years learning to be open to love again and the risk of it. Why would the Universe give me Albert, from whom I learned so much and who changed my life so completely, only to take him away one short year later?
And one possible answer that I had not considered crossed my path today. And it is this:
“Albert he wasn’t given to you for you. He was given to you for him. It was going to be his time soon and the Universe wanted you to be there for him.”
“The Universe knew no one could love him like you would and wanted him to have that kind of love before he returned home. He was given to you so that he could experience the kind of happiness that only you could have brought to him before he had to go.”
What if this was his life path – and only his?
What if I am still living my life path and this – his death – had and has nothing to do with me?
I did not think it was possible to miss you more. But this week, these days leading up to the holidays – I feel like you have been gone and you will return soon. It physically hurts knowing that won’t happen.
My body knows we should be in the mountains, in the snow, skiing, celebrating at your family’s place, together. My body is anticipating the drives up to the mountains, waiting for them. My body is waiting to follow you down the ski slope, press my cold lips to yours, hold hands near the fire, wrap ourselves in each other under blankets in the cold air of the cabin. My body reacts to a whistle in the street, as if it is you calling me to the balcony to say come on, let’s go….My body does not yet know.
My mind says try hard. Search for reasons to live, for ways to get through each day, each week. But I smell the snow, hear a whistle outside, and for a moment my body says I am ready, let’s go, until my brain can remind me: These plans will not happen. We will never make new memories, our future will never be.
There is no where for this energy to go. It comes out as tears, but it is still too much. No distractions help me, there is no relief. My world implodes and I fold up into myself until a long time passes. Sometimes it is hours until I can get up again. Until my body finally says yes, I see. I don’t understand, but I see how it is.
I only want to be with you, and people who love you.
I did not think it possible to miss you any more. But I did not yet know.
I was lucky enough to be loved by someone I admired and respected. Someone who allowed me into his heart and mind, who shared his secrets, his pain, his ideas, dreams, his fears and so many things he shared with no one else in the world.
He forgave all my faults and mistakes with a smile on his face and love in his heart. He asked me to forgive his mistakes and let him learn from them. He actively asked for feedback on his progress. He loved me enough to be fully present, to show me the human being he was. I was so lucky for this.
But a bomb was dropped on my life and everything familiar, everything I thought I knew for certain and believed in, is now in shambles. I struggle to find myself.
I am rendered weaponless in the face of this sadness. There is no forgetting, moving on, “stopping” myself thinking about him (as if that were even possible). The pain of losing Albert will not just end one day. Time does not heal all wounds. It doesn’t ever end, I know. I learned to live with the pain of losing JM. Now I have to learn to live with the pain of losing Albert. It is the price I paid for loving him so much.
We were absolutely sure of each other. Two months into the relationship we talked about marriage. And from then on we only alluded to it because we both understood that the day he proposed would be a surprise.
Life was magic with him. I was lucky for this.
But life without him
is hardly a life at all.