choices


I knew a side of Dave that few people ever got to see. I saw the man his friends and buddies knew, he told me how he was at work, but the side I got to see – his intimate and private side – was an amazing piece of Dave I’m glad I got to know. He was gentle and caring, like he was with everyone, but there was a super sweetness about him when he would speak to me or look at me or hold me. He would feel to the depth of his core and he was never weary about expressing himself, even if it exposed him as appearing weak – he was far from weak. Our physical connection was in tune with our emotional connection – when Dave would brush a strand of hair off my face, I could feel him through the graze of his fingers along my cheek. When he would kiss me I could feel his heart beating against his chest and mine would rush to be in sync with his. We could talk about anything, we were never afraid of the consequences of any conversation. If something we talked about created a rift in our feelings for each other, then we both figured those feelings weren’t strong enough in the first place. I loved him entirely. I still love him. He changed me and touched me in ways no other human ever has.

Dave had so many dreams. There were so many things he wanted to do and see and experience. He had a passion and love of life, but he wasn’t very good at focusing his attention and choosing what to do out of all the millions of things he always wanted to do. I suppose I’m a lot like that too at times. I like to let the fates sway my judgement, but I learned if I don’t choose for myself I may find that life is happening to me. Of course, if I do choose, and I choose wrong, then I wind up in a mess of my own doing. I suppose I prefer to blame the fates rather than myself, which is retarded because I made the choice to not choose in the first place. While Dave had a hard time narrowing down his choices, he always ended up picking something it seemed – and he lived with whatever came of that choice. I love him for that as well.

I wish I could tell him how I feel these days. He was always so good with me, keeping me calm and playing devil’s advocate with my nuances. I’d like to tell him about my day, just the ordinary things I do and the coincidences I notice and the extraordinary things that occur. I’d like to tell him how most of the time I don’t feel real and this world doesn’t feel real and he doesn’t seem real. I’d like to tell him how that hurts me and confuses me and makes me cry. I’d like to tell him how to have fixed that issue on the mountain – to tell him how he could’ve saved his own life that day. I’d like to tell him how my life is so empty without him, how I feel so unloved and so ordinary now. But I have so much I want to ask him too. So many questions that we just never got to. I want to have him hold me again, grab my face and kiss me soft, snuggle against me as we drift into talk and chatter away about our lives and adventures. I want to sleep beside him again and feel the warmth of his body. I want this all to be different, but I know it’s not.

I have normal moments and then I realize how confused I feel, how it hurts and I wonder why it hasn’t gone away yet, why I haven’t been able to put it somewhere, why it’s still affecting me and touching me and making me sad. I wonder who the person in my head is half the time, whose body I’m in, why none of it feels right – it all feels alien to me. The swirl still exists. I’m still in it. All because Dave is gone. I don’t recognize myself or this world without him here. I have no idea who I am.

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About humanbeen

I'm a has-been that was. I'm a dreamer that does.
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