I stand beside his absence. Insomnia and pain, my new companions. I understand that it will take time to heal, I do. I am living my minutes waiting for them to evolve into hours, and the hours to turn into days, the days into forgetfulness. My friends are confused and angry. With him. They are protective of me, bless them, but anger is not what I can hear right now; anger is not what I feel.
I feel fear. I am afraid because the love I feel lives on in my heart. I am afraid because I have not heard his voice. Afraid because he lived here and we had made this house into our home. Now it's back to my home, and I'm afraid of being here with his absence, afraid to be here with the ghosts.
I am afraid because of the pain left for me in the wake he left behind when he drove out of my life.
Tomorrow is his birthday. On my fridge are two Bob Seger tickets held by a magnet from a trip we took over Christmas. The concert was one of my gifts to him, a show we were both looking forward to; one neither of us will be attending.
The problem is that my love is pure, and very much alive. The problem is the sadness I'm left with. And I don't know what to do with it, or myself. But I can tell you this time he's gone for good. I know that, and I suffer that now.
Wednesday is Valentine's Day.
Hey internet, can you spare a rock large enough for me to hide under?
2 comments:
I don't have a rock but I do have two long arms to wrap around you in a hug, two big ears to listen, two glasses to fill with wine and lots of tissue to wipe away your tears.
It could be worse, Alison. At least you're not the fool who left the best thing that ever happened to him back in Texas.
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