Scary Closure

Chris’ Aunt Judy and I exchanged e-mail this morning and since I have been having trouble sittiing down to write my thoughts, I thought I would publish our correspondence:

Judy...

Hi Robin,
Just wanted to tell you how much you are in my thoughts on this anniversary weekend. I still find myself in disbelief sometimes. Chris will be in my heart every day, forever. I remember so many good things about him and treasure those memories.

Love you,
Hope to see you some time soon.
Judy

My reply...

Hi Judy,

I always remember Chris in my heart. I'm learning how to be happy again while realizing that he will always be with me, but it's difficult.

I am quite happy these days, but in between I have bouts of horrific breakdowns. That's just my life, now. I'm doing very, very well, though. Mostly I'm happy.

It seems that with the passing of these important anniversary dates comes a better, stronger ability on my part to put it all behind me. I have guilt, though. Not about my and Chris' relationship. That was the best time I ever had. I feel guilt having fun, going out, befriending HIS friends, doing the things I would have done with him. I feel like I'm leaving him out or ignoring him or being mean to him. I'm working on it with my wonderful social worker (whom I have a huge crush on....probably gay, though...although, I thought Chris was, too....I digress).

Good things are happening. Things Chris would have been proud of. It looks like I NAILED an interview yesterday and will soon be freeing myself from the horrors of administrative support, finally. That's one thing Chris wanted me to do the very moment he got well. But as you know, I'm sure, for the past year it was the perfect job for me as I could do nothing more than work a job at which I was being told what to do all day, because I couldn't think for myself AT ALL. Now I can, though, and things are getting better.

Tonight I'm going to Ellis Paul's show. There has been no doubt in my mind that it's what I NEED to do to close the circle of 2005. I'm sure I will cry tonight. I'm not even going to try to hide it. I don't care.

I grapple more with watching what Chris went through than I do with his actual death and absense from my life. His departure meant the end of his pain which can only mean happiness to me. His pain, though, and his fear and the deterioration of his body remain in the deepest, darkest lonliest caves within my soul and I need to find peace regarding those aspects of his illness. I don't know when or if that will ever be possible, but I just keep trying to talk about it in the hopes that I can gain some closure.

I hope you have a happy new year. There has to come a time when we all stop wishing each other "peace" and go back to wishing each other "happy holidays", again.

Happy New Year.

Love, Robin

I am quite nervous about seeing Ellis Paul this evening. I wouldn't even know who he was if it wasn't for Chris.

I'm afraid to hear all of the songs I listened to during Chris' illness. At the time, though, I gleaned hope from his lyrics and comfort from his voice. Listening to him now is like ripping my wounds open with a jagged knife. I fall down every time.

Still, he's a beautiful musician and I would be remiss to discard such beauty in my ears, in my life and in my soul in burying that beauty beneath the blackness of my own fear and panic of old.

So tonight I face my demons, some of them, anyway and try to welcome one of the scariest segments of my grief back into my life in the form of closure and forgiveness.

Or maybe I'll snap and live out the rest of my days at Bellevue. Vist me, okay?

Shneed