Attachment is a strange thing. Love is even stranger. People have philosophized about love for millennia and it’s no wonder why. It messes with our senses. It invades our thoughts. It creates a most resilient form of attachment that even in death still persists to hang on to every part of a person.
It’s natural to become attached to people. Love, however, is a very complicated form of attachment that some people won’t even dare to experience. Some people see attachment as a weakness, so to them, love is a more severe form of attachment. Yet love is anything but a weakness. It is the point to this solitary existence – it is strength, it is life, it is purpose. Love is the only thing that truly cures loneliness.
I have to believe that. And I have to believe that is why it hurts so much to not have Dave with me anymore. I was incredibly attached to that man of mine. I was/am in love with that man. My day wasn’t complete unless I had some form of contact with him. His existence in my life was so ingrained in my thoughts that he became a consideration in every thing I did. We was a thought. And now, he’s just not here. It’s an immense amount of work to adjust my thoughts to that. I know he should no longer be a consideration, but I can’t help it at times. These past 76 days I’ve been experiencing some of the strangest thoughts I’ve ever had. They’re irrational. They catch me off guard. I can’t believe they’re in my head at times. And sometimes I catch myself in mid thought and have no idea where I was, but I definitely wasn’t present in my mind.
But Dave is not here and each time I realize that I am reminded of how bizarre and random life is. I miss him whole-heartedly. But I’m beginning to accept that I have no choice – I am not getting a life with him. I have no choice but to change, and change my thoughts.
The days are getting more bearable. I’m getting accustomed again to the loneliness in my mind, but I’m always aware I’ve had better times. I remember who I was the day before he died – and then I realize who I am now. I’m just Sheri. I’m no longer Sheri and Dave. And then I cry. My life sucks without Dave.
People have told me that I am fortunate to have had such love. They, however, can not imagine what I have right now. How I felt in the first few weeks after Dave died was so far from the bliss of love – how I feel now is far lonelier than I ever felt before I met him. I know now what I am without. I’m not sure what is worse, having love and losing it, or to never have loved at all. But I have to believe that the philosophers are correct, otherwise that wisdom would never have lasted for so long. I do not feel it yet, but I am considering its truth. After all, Dave is gone, and I still love him. I still remember that love – I can still feel it when I recall my time with him. It’s just reality can’t be erased from my memory either, and the knowledge that he’s dead is a whole other feeling in itself.