Things are changing so quickly lately. The rollercoaster has been getting stuck in certain places for longer amounts of times and occasionally I have been having five straight minutes in one reality – the reality. It’s becoming clearer who Dave is and what he means to me, where he is and where he’ll never be again. It’s difficult to think about. It’s like a bullet to the heart. Or maybe a blow so powerful, it leaves me breathless. The reality – my personal piece of darkness. I keep forcing myself into situations so I will see and feel what is right in front of me. But often I feel like the child who drew on the walls – I don’t want to admit what happened, so I keep my eyes tilted downward away from the gaze of they who know and they who will force me to admit the truth. I don’t think I did anything wrong. I’m trying to realize that. But events of that day play heavy drums in my mind’s drifting thoughts and I feel as though I am constantly summoned to the part I played that day. I hear it is human nature to consider the what ifs. It’s something inside of us that wants to bargain, rationalize and calculate what has happened. Something wants to find meaning. I think I need to call that something my sanity. I know I did no wrong, but there are many things I would have done different that day and many other days – many many other days had I known the amount of time we had left. I try to not think of them as regrets, because they’re not. I love Dave still. I told him often and he knew how mad I was for him. I know he wanted to marry me this summer. He knew I wanted to marry him. I know he felt a love and connection for me deeper than with any woman he’d ever been with. He knew that I was waiting for him to come home. And I know he was on his way home. We had a love that made both our insides tingle and come alive, we talked about it a lot. We knew it was a gift and we didn’t want to waste it. So I don’t regret anything. I just would have stayed in San Diego. I would have never gone to New Zealand. I would have married him when he brought it up in November. I would have been on that hill with him that day and at least he wouldn’t have died alone.
I love Dave still. But his death still baffles me. I thought for a while that it was because I didn’t see the body that I couldn’t picture him as dead. But I’ve been thinking about my father’s funeral – the body seemed fake. I knew he wasn’t in there. It was like someone replaced my father with some weird humanoid object made to look kind of like him. It just didn’t seem real. I’m not sure it would’ve helped to see Dave’s body, but it may have helped me realize that he was no longer in there. I’ve been trying to think about Dave leaving his body that instant it stopped working. I’ve been trying to picture it and I’ve been trying to wonder where he went. I don’t like to play with the idea of personalities and souls going into oblivion. It makes life seem so pointless. But I’m also not sure if I believe we become one with the earth – become the wind and the colour of grass, a leaf and droplet of water – like we’re spread so thin that we no longer exist as ourselves, but as the forces of earth. Of course, perhaps it is a higher form of consciousness that allows us to spread ourselves in such a way. But honestly, it doesn’t matter to me too much yet in that I need an answer. I just want to know where he is. I miss him. My heart, mind, body and soul ache and long for him, for his touch and his presence and his thoughts and his words. I will always long for these things because I will always love him. I can’t fully explain the love we have yet. In time I will find the words. But I can’t explain fully the emptiness and ache I feel without his presence in my life, but I hope to one day find the words for that too. For now I am a passenger. I wish I could find the off switch. I wish someone knew the magic code to stopping this journey. But everyone who’s had a go tells me that once it starts you’re a passenger until it stops. The journey is different for everyone – in intensity, in duration and in chance. I’m holding on. This is not a rollercoaster I will be putting my arms up in the air to. It changes too quickly. I just wish it would stop.