Sometimes I catch myself moving on. It’s in little things I do, from cooking a new dish or buying some new underwear – it’s all about what I want, not what Dave and I would want. I don’t realize it at the time, but then I feel this movement inside of me, and it mimics peace and comfort, and I wonder what on earth is wrong with me that I can feel such things with him gone. The guilt is overwhelming, to the point where I feel like being sick, but then I tell myself that it’s what Dave wanted – for me to move on with my life – to accept that there’s nothing I can do – I have to live the rest of my life and he isn’t ever coming back into it. I try to tell myself that, but I wonder if it’s just habit and natural for people to try and survive in whatever circumstances life bestows upon them. Maybe I’m not so much moving on, but accepting that like it or not, I can no longer have the life I long for – a life with my Dave.
I look at photos of him and often these days I smile at the goofy looks he always gave my camera. He’d suck in his lips all sheepishly, like he was shy around me or something. It was cute. And then all these other little memories come flooding into my head. Wonderful little memories. The things he said. How he made me feel like his one and only. How he’d kiss me. It makes me happy to know someone loved me that much in this life – in his life. I wonder if this is what people meant when they said that love will always be in me. But then other times I look at those same photos and my face heats up, my throat closes and my eyes become fountains for a life I will never have. I feel like life teased and taunted me. Offered me everything I ever wanted and gave me a taste only to steal it away. I get angry with life, and that comfort and peace turn into discontent and despair. Why did he have to be so wonderful? Why did it all have to feel so wonderful? And then I question this existence of mine – why must there always be such trials in my life? Why take away the one thing I waited my whole life for? Why Dave?
Some people tell me I’m doing okay. I think on the outside I am. I’ve been mildly self-destructive, which I figure is normal for someone who is questioning the validity of their own meaning of life. I’ve been progressive and have been forcing myself to take steps everyday knowing that in time these things will become second nature and when I finally come out of the fog I will still be living some kind of life. But no matter the promise I made to Dave that I would get on with my life, that I would let myself fall in love again, no matter any of it, I am still so madly in love with a man I can never ever have – and what’s worse I’m realizing, he was on top of the world when he died – because he couldn’t wait to have a life with me.
I don’t always know if I’m moving on well. But I know I’m moving forward. And as I look and look and look at photos of Dave, and as I watch the same videos over and over of Dave, I realize he is still with me in many many ways. I miss him. I miss you, Dave.