The most difficult thing
I can honestly say that these past 3 weeks have been the hardest weeks of my life. I've never experienced anything remotely close to this grief. Grief is a terrible thing. It swallows everything you know to be true and spits you out cold and alone. It adds hundreds of pounds of heaviness on your heart, your shoulders, your head and weighs you down. It is a tooth ache that quiets down to a dull throb and then flares up aching again reminding you it hasn't gone away. It makes time crawl to a halt. It robs you of your short term memory. It makes you feel like you are a fraction of the person you were.
I feel like I'm a thousand years older. My jaw is constantly clenched tight and I feel my face drawn into a frown and I've had headaches. Grief is such a physical thing. I constantly feel like something is missing and when I stop to think that I will have to spend the rest of my life without talking to her or seeing her again I feel this sickness rise up in my stomach and I just want to weep. And I have. I've shed so many tears it's a wonder I have any left. The other day I was driving home from the mall and I had a thought that I wanted to share with her. I picked up my phone to text her.... and. I. lost. it. I cried the whole way home - big fat tear drops rolling down my cheeks. I pulled into the driveway and sobbed. I walked in the door and I had Luke in his carrier and Richie walked towards me and I could see the panic rising up in his eyes as he was trying to asses if this was a new tragedy or an old pain. And that made me cry more.
Mostly I feel detached. I have problems remembering things. I have problems making my eyes match my smile. I have problems staying focused and not wandering off. I have zero motivation to start the application process to get my PhD. I just keep thinking "what's the point?" What's the point of anything anymore? What really matters to me anymore? not very much that is for sure.
I feel so disjointed right now. My mind jumps from one thing to another and I have problems making connections to things. I am sparked to anger for the slightest infraction. Sometimes I'm in the middle of talking about her, or the situation, or how I feel and I think "Is this really my life? How the fuck did things get to this place?" I alternate between wanting to talk about her and wanting to forget all of the pain these past 3 weeks.
In the worst of moments I question everything - from our relationship and what I meant to her or didn't mean to her, to wondering if I even really knew who she was, to my ability to feel true joy anymore, to if I really even care what my future holds or what I eat or what I spend money on. In the darkest of times I wonder why she didn't consider how this would impact me. She. left. me. Willingly. And my heart breaks that I was so easy to walk away from. There are countless hours where I think about the chain of events and wonder how it all went so quickly. I think about our last conversation and wish it wasn't about some trivial TV show. I wish I had said I love you to her one last time. I wish for so much and yet it doesn't matter at all. She's still gone.
I was wrong before. I thought that the most difficult thing would be seeing her at the viewing. But she was beautiful and perfect. Then I thought that the most difficult thing would be her funeral. And then the reading of the letter she left me. But I was wrong. By far the most difficult thing has been the hours, and days, and weeks I've lived since then. Time spent without her.
I feel like I'm a thousand years older. My jaw is constantly clenched tight and I feel my face drawn into a frown and I've had headaches. Grief is such a physical thing. I constantly feel like something is missing and when I stop to think that I will have to spend the rest of my life without talking to her or seeing her again I feel this sickness rise up in my stomach and I just want to weep. And I have. I've shed so many tears it's a wonder I have any left. The other day I was driving home from the mall and I had a thought that I wanted to share with her. I picked up my phone to text her.... and. I. lost. it. I cried the whole way home - big fat tear drops rolling down my cheeks. I pulled into the driveway and sobbed. I walked in the door and I had Luke in his carrier and Richie walked towards me and I could see the panic rising up in his eyes as he was trying to asses if this was a new tragedy or an old pain. And that made me cry more.
Mostly I feel detached. I have problems remembering things. I have problems making my eyes match my smile. I have problems staying focused and not wandering off. I have zero motivation to start the application process to get my PhD. I just keep thinking "what's the point?" What's the point of anything anymore? What really matters to me anymore? not very much that is for sure.
I feel so disjointed right now. My mind jumps from one thing to another and I have problems making connections to things. I am sparked to anger for the slightest infraction. Sometimes I'm in the middle of talking about her, or the situation, or how I feel and I think "Is this really my life? How the fuck did things get to this place?" I alternate between wanting to talk about her and wanting to forget all of the pain these past 3 weeks.
In the worst of moments I question everything - from our relationship and what I meant to her or didn't mean to her, to wondering if I even really knew who she was, to my ability to feel true joy anymore, to if I really even care what my future holds or what I eat or what I spend money on. In the darkest of times I wonder why she didn't consider how this would impact me. She. left. me. Willingly. And my heart breaks that I was so easy to walk away from. There are countless hours where I think about the chain of events and wonder how it all went so quickly. I think about our last conversation and wish it wasn't about some trivial TV show. I wish I had said I love you to her one last time. I wish for so much and yet it doesn't matter at all. She's still gone.
I was wrong before. I thought that the most difficult thing would be seeing her at the viewing. But she was beautiful and perfect. Then I thought that the most difficult thing would be her funeral. And then the reading of the letter she left me. But I was wrong. By far the most difficult thing has been the hours, and days, and weeks I've lived since then. Time spent without her.
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