I don’t come here much anymore. It’s been over a year. I’ve passed an anniversary. A Christmas. A new year. Kurt’s 40th birthday. And many other days which were big to me, but unimportant to anyone else. And I haven’t felt a need to put it out there.
Things have definitely changed.
People still ask me how I am doing. The truth – the honest truth that no one wants to hear – is that I don’t know. I’m not good. But I’m not bad. I just kind of am. Stuck between yesterday and tomorrow. Just getting through each day.
August will mark 5 years since we lost Kurtis. And a lot has changed since then. To me, within me, and in the world around me. I don’t cry myself to sleep any longer. The rings are tucked away safely – my left hand and the chain around my neck are bare. I don’t wait for him to come home, kiss the picture of him that hangs on my bedroom wall, or reach for him in the middle of the night. I don’t know which pillow he slept on, and can now sleep on “his” side of the bed or eat at “his” chair at the table without too much trouble. But I do admit to longingly fingering the last few pieces of his clothing that hang in the closet, every now and then. Staring at his face as I drift to sleep at night. Pausing to smell that one remaining deodorant of his I just can’t throw away. Physical reminders that that part of my life was real. That he was real. It wasn’t just the dream it sometimes now seems to be...
He’s still a part of my day to day. I still talk to him when I need help. Sometimes yell at him when things aren’t going right. And think of him at some point every single day. I can now accept that he will always be with me, on some level. That I will always love him. Always miss him. And a part of me will always long for what could have been.
I know that we would have been living a very different life. A different house. Probably a different family arrangement. A different reality. And although I accept my present, I would trade a lot just to step foot in that alternate reality for just a moment – that one where he and I are celebrating our 7th wedding anniversary with our larger family. Just to taste what I often wonder about. How life could have been...
I still live with the scars of that day. I still can’t take a bath. I wear earplugs in the shower. I freeze at the sight of an ambulance. I still see things, hear things that transport me back in an instant. I’m still seeking professional help to get me through those reminders. But like everything, these too have become my norm. I hate them. But I deal with them. Because I have no choice. This is the life I’ve been given.
I won’t say I’ve moved on. Not even really moved forward. I don’t know if it’s because I haven’t, or because I’m afraid. Because moving forward also implies moving farther from him. But I have moved. I’m no longer where I was. I don’t know if this is a better place. But it’s a different place. And when I look back at those deep, dark days immediately following, I can honestly say that anything different is good.
And so where do I go from here? And why did I come back here, to a place full of some of my darkest days, to announce that my world is not as dark, but not as bright either?
I don’t know. I see a change. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’ve found people I can trust. And learned that even then, sometimes silence simply is best. But I want people to know that I’m still out here.
Wherever here is.
I think I may be back here more often. I miss it, miss seeing my thoughts appear as words. Miss knowing others have heard those words. Or maybe not. If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that you take things as they come. Do what feels right in the moment.
Because the moment is all there is.....
