The weather’s beginning to change. It’s not that it’s cool out yet, not really, but I can wear jeans and it doesn’t bother me. You would be itching to leave here by now. But we would be leaving in three weeks – our grand adventure. Part of me wants to still go through with our plans, but I fear it’ll only fuel the emptiness inside me. I can’t do that. I won’t go backwards. You are the love of my life and I made you happy in so many ways, so I will not dishonour that love by destroying myself completely. It’s not what you wanted. And I’m sorry, but I still cry.
Work has been OK. I don’t really love it these days, but that’s because I know you’re not there with me. I wake up alone and I know right away – I’m alone – you never came home – you’re never coming home – you’re gone. I hate waking up. I hate that you’re not here anymore. I hate that this is my life. Why did this happen in my life? Haven’t I been through enough? What possible point is life trying to make by taking you out of my existence? I wish I could have these answers. I wish I knew why it had to be my guy and why I’m now the girl whose boyfriend died.
I still haven’t jumped. I know, I know. But I will eventually. I’m just not ready yet. I think too much maybe about how hard you hit the ground. It doesn’t scare me. It’s not that I’m scared to jump, I’m just worried that my brain won’t be thinking about the right things when I’m up there. I know all I have to do is try. And I will. It just sucks because I had just been getting back into jumping. I had just started finding my love for it again, and then you go in. Not that it’s your fault. It just doesn’t really help things. I really wish you didn’t die.
I struggle a lot with your absence. I struggle more than I show. It took me so long to find you – my match – and I finally had you. You were coming home. You had finally decided. They said you were infectiously happy in the last month of your life – wasn’t that since I came to see you and you decided you were coming home?
It just pisses me off.
You still don’t feel real to me a lot. I mean, you’re not anymore, I guess. But I mean that you were once real, that you were my boyfriend and we were in love. It’s hard to process it. After New Zealand and how busy I was and just waiting for you to get your ass home and then your death – I disconnected so much of my heart from you because your absence incapacitates me. It’s still too strong a dose for me to take. You have no idea how much I miss you and how much you meant to me. And now – Dave – the hurt consumes me. I need to look away a lot, and I think that’s why it doesn’t feel real – because I can’t look straight into it. I’m working on it, I am. But it is all a black spot on my life. It’s a horrible tragedy and it’s now forever a part of my story. You were a shining star in my life – and then your death is the tipping point – it’s when everything, absolutely everything in my world changed. It still doesn’t feel real because my system is still recovering from the shock, and each time I feel a little, it just goes right back into shock. And everything is changed. You are never coming home. My boyfriend has died. We are not going on our adventure. You will never feel the cold weather again. I will never be able to wake up with you just one more time.
I miss you baby. And I’m glad you were happy. I’m glad I could help you at least with that before you left this world. I miss you. My heart misses you. Please, find your way home.