I’m falling apart, I’m falling apart. I know it’s his impending birthday. I can’t handle the pain tonight. I need him. I AM ALWAYS GOING TO NEED HIM. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this.
Nobody knows. Nobody knows anymore because they all think it’s a cake walk.
I keep having flashes of memories that burn a hole right through me. I remember our first date. I still remember the temperature. I still remember how he laughed when the door to the bank wouldn’t open. All the stuff. All the stupid, piddly stuff that everybody takes for granted! I never took my Chris for granted. I enjoyed him through and through; his presence, his serious side (Mr. Phelps), his voices, His humor, the way he got annoyed when my energy level was too high for him. All of it.
We worked so hard to become perfect for each other. It was work, and we chose to do it.
I WANT TIME TO STOP. I have wanted time to stop since the diagnosis. It’s really hard being happy all day and falling apart every night. This can’t be healthy.
I don’t want to forget about him. He was the great love of my life. I can’t understand how he can be gone.
Today at work, I glanced down at my desk calendar and found November 23. I just sat there for a few minutes caressing the date. I don’t want it to come. I want to back this fucking thing way up to before he got sick and before we moved to L.A. We were having fun then.
If he could see me now, he would feel very badly. I can’t help myself, anymore. My soul is in shreds.
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So you're still at the place where you wish the clocks turned backwards...
ReplyDeleteSchneed, maybe after a year of firsts it will get easier. I think it will, but in the meantime, all those those little "firsts" are gonna suck and there are a few big ones coming up. Brace yourself, your friends will help hold you up.
Hi Pad,
ReplyDeleteThanks for your post. I don't even know how to explain. It's like I'm fucking schizophrenic these days. I need you to know that I laugh all day long. I sing ALL the time and when I'm singing or running or with people I'm truly very happy, ecstatic, even.
Last night's breakdown is just one of many that have been overtaking me lately, but only at night when I'm alone.
As always, I'm allowing it to happen as hard as it is. I believe it's my best course of action. I mean, I could take Ativan every night. I choose not to.
I just don't want anyone to think I'm a complete basket case. I'm only a partial one. ;)
PS - LOVED "Pad Plissey" It took me a second but I got it and it made me laugh.
Love,
The "most-of-the-time-very-upbeat-and fun",
Shneed