My Love

Today, on day five of my common cold,I caught myself thinking “I’m going to be sick forever.” I felt ashamed as my mind shifted to thoughts of Chris and how he truly must have felt as though he was going to be sick forever. He endured fourteen months of fatigue so overwhelming that all he could do was remain on the couch or in bed, sleeping for five days straight every two weeks. How does a person go on, find hope or find the strength to entertain the idea that things might turn out okay in the end?

I don’t know how he held on. I only know that he let go with the arrival of the second diagnosis. I could tell something was different. His fight was gone. I knew he wasn’t going to fight this time. Mentally, he was exhausted and beaten.

For the past four days I have drifted in and out of sleep, my mind taking me on trips through memories I would rather not explore. In my half-conscious states of this past weekend, I have remembered diagnosis # 1, Chris’ phone call to his family to break the news, all of my fears of the threat of his death, his hair-loss and loss of dignity and countless other points on the timeline.

I also remembered his sweetness, the way he looked at me, the rose he brought me when we met for dinner at Bangkok Basil, the boxes of four Godiva chocolates he periodically surprised me with, which I always split with him.

There were times this weekend when I forgot that Chris is dead. Of course, the trouble forgetting he’s dead is that after each warm memory, he dies all over again and again.

I have loved and trusted nobody in my lifetime the way that I loved and trusted Chris. He trusted me, too. I would give anything to have him back in my life

My days can be so cold. This morning, in my drugged out flu-ish state, I drove my car to the shop, left it and walked home the fifteen minutes in the cold. Later on, I walked the fifteen minutes back to the garage in a feverish spacey haze, picked up the car and went shopping for food. Again, I was struck with memories of teamwork past. Chris would drop off the car. I would pick it up. I would be sick. He would go grocery shopping while I slept. and when I staggered out of the bedroom, too well rested to go back to sleep, I would sit and watch the Red Sox with him.

God, I miss the Red Sox. It just isn’t the same without him. I hated sports. He made me like baseball. Chris knew so much. He knew stats, history, players, injuries, strategies. No matter what he said was happening, Jerry Remy would repeat it seconds afterwards amazing me the way a magician amazes his audience. I was truly impressed’

I’m in a little bit of a rut today in which I feel as though I am never going to feel better. I just want him back. Chris was everything to me. I don’t even know if I can ever give another man a chance. The way I feel now, he could never fill Chris’ shoes, never be as funny or as loving or as perfect for me. What if I’m alone for the rest of my life?

It would be my own fault. It would be God’s fault. It would be my own fault. I don’t know who’s fault it would be. I’m still mad at God. I loved him, too, but I really don’t understand how this happened. I try to believe that I’m part of something bigger and that everything that happiness has to happen in order for us to reach our destiny. I don’t want to be alone. I want to go see Chris. I want to be with him.

If I could disappear and find a place where I could curl up into a ball with Chris and put my arms around him, I would tell him I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry you had to leave. I’m sorry you had to hurt. And I’m sorry I have to live out the rest of my life without you. If I could wrap my arms around him the way I did every single day, I wouldn’t have a shred of worry left in my entire being.

I have so much pain.