Raw

In so many ways, this is just the beginning of my healing phase.

Tonight is the first night I’m spending in my new apartment. I thought I was okay. I am okay, essentially, but because I have done nothing but run around like a mad woman packing, unpacking, shopping and working, I haven’t had time to think. This is the first moment that I have simply sat quietly and it only took me a minute to burst into tears. I’m so grief stricken.

Chris would have loved this place. He would have spent his mornings in the loft, reading his Red Sox news. I want him here with me so badly that it hurts just to be.

Of course I swallowed an Ativan. I can’t do it tonight. I’m really scared. I’m scared to sit and too scared to sleep. I’m horrified of Chris’ absence. I need him so much that my body is aching. This isn’t fair.

I want to meet him again. I just want him to walk to the bottom of the stairs and come out his front door and smile the way he smiled at me that first night I picked him up. I remember standing on his front porch before he came downstairs thinking that I couldn’t remember what he looked like. When he came to the door and smiled, my first impression was, “What a great smile.” I lived to see that smile. I lived to drive because he didn’t like to. I lived to walk to a coffee shop and sit on a bench in the park sipping with him. I lived to hear his voice on the other end of the line and to hug him and to talk with him and laugh with him.

We were so good together. He cooked so I drove. I worked so he washed clothes. We fit together perfectly in absolutely every way. Absolutely every aspect of him accented everything about me and vise versa.

I need him so much tonight. I thought about calling someone just to talk about regular, everyday stuff. That helps me.

My life is good. I have had a horrible event take place, but I refuse to say that life is bad. It’s not. It hurts right now, but it’s still good and there are still things in my life that bring me great joy.