eleven months


Sometimes I can’t believe that I’m still alive. I wished for death in the months after Dave died. Lightning from the sky, t-boned at an intersection, a meteor or some other form of natural disaster – I didn’t want to have to deal with the anguish that had over-taken my whole being and life. The pain of losing him was nearly unbearable in the beginning – not completely though, or I really wouldn’t have survived. I’m still surprised by that outcome. There are things in life, so I’ve learned, that I have to deal with whether I like it or not. And maybe that’s why I don’t feel so prone to writing about my anguish these days. Maybe time does make a difference. Maybe I’m healing and the anguish is dissipating from my heart – like a slow leak in a balloon. Or maybe even it’s the opposite – maybe love and happiness is finding it’s way back into my heart – like the trickle of a creek filling up a large lake. Whatever is happening, I’m letting it happen. And it feels good to want to live again, even though I’m kind of at a loss with what to do with the rest of my life.

It’s been strange. Life has been strange. Sometimes I don’t know who I am anymore or why I do what I do. I don’t always know exactly what my intentions are, or how to explain myself. Me – the wordsmith, at a loss. As much as I know it doesn’t make sense, I’m trying to understand what I’m still hiding from or ignoring. Everything in my head – my reason, my beliefs, my systematic thinking – everything got so screwed up and it has been a struggle, albeit an interesting and tormenting struggle, putting my head back together.  I don’t feel all together yet. I don’t feel 100 per cent. I don’t even feel much like I remember I used to. But I suppose we can never have it all together. And everything changes. And sometimes it’s us that changes entirely.

The other day I caught myself wondering what I would want in a man. I have to take this to mean that I’m still open to companionship or love or something along those lines. I tried dating, but I think it was too soon. I’m not sure I’ve quite mastered how to hold my love for Dave in my heart with the pain of him not being here – and hold my heart open at the same time. I’m not even sure if it’s ajar. There’s a certain amount of fear of it all happening again – of losing the love of my life – of losing a piece of myself – of rupturing my heart and falling into some nether realm of oblivion – again. But I’m also scared I won’t recognize it or I’ll ignore it or I’ll be too afraid and let it pass me by. I think everyone worries about that, but I have to believe that I still have a chance of being in love again in this life. I will always love Dave. But I need someone to love me back.

A year ago tomorrow I flew to San Diego to see Dave. I never knew it would be the last time I would see him alive, but we spent our time well. We had each other for four wonderful days. I slept better than I had in months. He didn’t sleep at all. He used to say that I fucked his shit up. He’d say it with a big smile and then squeeze me close. It’s hard to believe that was all one year ago. It’s bewildering how much life can change in one year. I think maybe I’ll start writing again more, just maybe I’ll focus more on growth and beauty than the pain I was trying so hard to work through. The writing helped – and everyone who read along with that struggle helped me understand how to keep going. So here I am – eleven months later. And I’m gonna keep going.

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About humanbeen

I'm a has-been that was. I'm a dreamer that does.
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3 Responses to eleven months

  1. sKY:: says:

    Happy that you are still thriving and writing through your process.
    Keep going!

  2. sage says:

    You write very eloquently. I have been at the bottom of the abyss many times and never wanted to or felt I could come back. But I keep on trying. Seeing you slowly recover from your loss and pain is an inspiration to anyone that has experienced loss and hardship of any kind. Thanks for letting us take a peek inside your life and keep on writing!

    Sage

  3. Mary P says:

    this put tears in my eyes… happy tears and sad ones at the same time, hard to explain but I think you know what I mean. I think of you and Dave a lot and try to imagine if something like this would ever happen to me – I don’t think I could survive but then again, we don’t know what our body and soul is capable of until something happens…

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