Monday, September 21, 2009

The Ritualistic Autumn Fall

I feel like I haven't written in forever, but only one month has passed since my last entry.

I'm having "one of those nights" this evening. With autumn, always comes a great sadness for me, operating right alongside a great happiness. I don't know if I'm making sense. I only know that I have waited all year for this beautiful weather to come, and I love day. By night, I'm sad. I miss him. The void is gutting me tonight.

I still know everything he would say in reply to anything I might say. Chris and I were fused in some way. I could feel it. We were cut from the same mold. My best friend. And he understood me like nobody else ever has.

The night's fall temperature and ever-earlier darkness brought me right back to my week-nightly walk up Pearson Road, straining to see the warm, amber lights glowing from our apartment windows. When I saw them, I knew he was there. Home. And I was so happy to be there.

After Chris died, I bought some timers for the lamps in our apartment, so I wouldn't have to come home to darkness. I used to fool myself on the way up the street. I wanted him to be there. I wanted to laugh with him. We truly enhanced each other.

And tonight, for some reason, I feel like screaming.

I don't know what's going to happen with me and Jonathan. There's a distance that perhaps only I feel. It's possible that I put it there and that I keep it there. I don't know.

I'm too scared to share my grief with him. How do you tell someone that you love that he's not the only one, that you have never been able to pull the knife out of your heart? It's still there.

I want to go to heaven and say hello to my husband.

Someday, I suppose I will.

I hope he'll be waiting for me.