What’s been eatin’ me.

I have about two and a half hours to go before landing in San Diego and I can feel some anxiety beginning to creep up on me. I’m about to meet Jonathan there and not Chris. My nerves are not born of discontent. I’m very happy to be meeting Jonathan there. But there’s a disconnect in my brain and I’m having trouble understanding what happened to 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007 and 2008. 2009 is upon me and I’m on my way to California for the first time since the entire saga began.

I’m scared. “Chris and Robin” is now a time capsule, filled with love, memories, fun, marriage, sickness, health, food, family, laughter, clothing, terror, sadness and friendship. Two lives exist in that capsule; two entire lives. Chris wasn’t just a part of my life. He was an entire life of mine, encapsulated into a larger repository of additional lives all woven together to create the larger picture of what life really is; a series of time segments. My life with Chris is over. My life with Jonathan has just begun. Two separate parts of my entire existence. And there will be more.

I’m afraid Jonathan doesn’t know the depth of thought that permeates my conscious and I’m not sure he would or could fully understand. My brain is telling me that I’m flying back to 2003, the year Chris and I decided to leave Los Angeles and move home, the year we realized that happiness, for us, lived in Boston. Summer of that year overflowed with hope and excitement. We were finally home and we knew we wanted to stay this time.

Wednesday evening, again, on the platform, this time at Park Street Station, I became entirely enveloped in my love for Jonathan. The feeling overwhelmed me and I began to feel tears well up in my eyes. I then began to envision two ends of a stick of dynamite, both ignited. I remembered an evening after work in 2003 when I had to run into a building maintenance room at Filene’s headquarters, where I leaned against and slid down the wall between two trash receptacles, hiding because I couldn’t control a sudden, unexpected surge of anguish and horror from overthrowing me.

Standing on the platform the other night, the tears that threatened to surface toggled back and forth, from tears about the love I now feel for Jonathan to tears of terror at the thought that Chris might die. Love, fear, love, fear, love, fear…just like that, one moment beaming about how lucky I am to have found love a second time and the next grieving my loss as I waited for the next train to Alewife to snatch me up and deliver me to Cambridge. If I had been alone or outside, I would have allowed the salty waters to flow. I would have invited and welcomed every single suppressed emotion Alas, I’m not one to express feelings of sadness in the company of others. Crawling up the three flights of stairs to the privacy of my cozy cottage-like flat, collapsing onto my bed and purging every emotion inside me until I feel completely spent is more my style.

Two equal, opposing emotions, share the spotlight in my soul. I have come a long way since the first few days after Chris’ death. I still shudder when I remember the events of that period. I believe that I will always.

But today, I’m on my way to San Diego to meet Jonathan. My mood is light. I am filled with happiness and love. I’m excited about landing and spending a group of days together for the first time since we met.

Plus, the cute little boy sitting next to me just contributed to my blog with “s42wXVB..6711AQ`3%^&#rrrrrrrrrr” a most inspirational comment on life’s many twists and turns. Who can sum that up better than a child?

Shneed