It's Different Now


Babes, It's different now.

Sometimes I feel like I am finding my stride, now from time-to-time I think I feel 'normal'. In many moments I don't feel so raw, so vulnerable, or torn up.  Today, it is like summer here, and at first that was a nice surprise. I finished teaching and when I left the studio I was happy to have the sun on my face. But I quickly felt the sting. This sting, I can't explain it but I have felt it often. It hurts me all over and begs the question, where are you?

A new season, a new phase, a whole new set of things we would be doing together now that summer is near, and it fucks with me. There are no longer the specific plans that we had that didn't happen. Like the wedding or honeymoon, or renovations at the house, but there is this overarching knowing that we would be enjoying the summer weather together. I get stuck. I try to make myself do things but it all feels off, in those times nothing feels good, or right, or fun. 

The other week I had a few minutes at home between classes and Ollie was chillin' in the backyard sunbathing. I went to sit with her and was flooded with flashbacks. I spent the better part of two weeks sitting in that exact spot right after the accident. People came and went and since it was so sunny, and I felt claustrophobic inside, we just sat there. Talking, sitting, everyone in shock, no one knowing how to be but just needing to be together. So as soon as I sat down, I was right back there.

It is crazy, I go through that and then go teach, it's like that now. I am still living this fucked up thing but am also living a new life. A happy life, a full life. The juxtaposition is confusing, exhausting, and I sometimes feel like I am living many versions of my life. 

Yesterday I started cleaning the office. Fuck that. I am so angry that this is happening, but still, I did it. I braved it. Until now I have really just left the door closed. This was your space. From the wall painted in Synlawn green to your desk taking up most of it. I never liked the office, but you. You spent so much time in here, I would usually find you in here when I would get home from late classes, I would sit on your lap, you'd tell me all about your day, and then we would go make dinner. Going through it is brutal.

There is the white board where I was counting down the days to the wedding. My words, ‘I choose you 28 days’ still on it. Your collection of Big White season passes. Photos, awards, lots of notes. You loved notes and lists. You had anything I would ever need in your desk. I never had anything, so I would take your pens, your stamps, paper clips, and pretty much any other random things I needed. I guess I'll have to start getting that stuff myself.

I tell myself time-and-time again it is just stuff but some of the stuff so much apart of who you were that it hurts to move it. To really acknowledge that you are not coming back to this space. I am learning that there is only one way to let it be, and that is to first let it hurt. This room will one day be just a room. But first I have to sit in it and go through everything you left, just waiting for you to come back. I allow myself to touch it, and hold it; some is getting thrown out, some is getting saved. All of it I take my time with. All little pieces of what was, all little pieces of you, pieces of me, pieces of us. 

There are drawings from Tulia, and love letters from me. You used to give me a hard time when I would give them to you. I think you never knew what to say, how to express what you felt and  I kinda thought you didn't care for them, but there they were, all saved in your desk. I guess they did mean something to you after all. As I read through them I am so glad I wrote to you. That you knew how I felt, in black and white over all the years, some of them so sweet. 

There are countless projects we worked on together; some of your marketing materials, my retreat stuff, notes from workshops we did.  As I look around the office I can see me in so much that was yours. I had never really noticed that before; so intertwined.  

So yesterday and today I am off, I can't tell anymore what is what. Are my off days just off days, I had those before? Am I struggling with something around you?  It is so deep the pain sometimes I can't decipher it. Before it was more raw, right at the surface, now it simmers deeply. I read something the other day that talked about grief as an absorption.

An absorption, that's exactly it. I will absorb this experience and in that I will be more dimensional, more complete, fuller, but I will also be heavier, burdened.

It's just like that. I can't change it so I try to make peace with it. I am both more alive and vibrant as well as cold and guarded. It's odd today, the sun is out and people are so happy and I, I am not. I am suffering, and angry, and hurt, and not in the mood for small talk or casual smiles. I wear sunglasses and a hat, and I keep my head down, trying so hard just to keep it together. 

The pain has changed, it is different but not better. Babes, someone said to me that you would stay close till I was strong enough to live this life alone and then slowly you would give me space. I have felt that. Over the last little while I have felt like we have softened our grip on each other's soul. I'm learning how to live here without you, and maybe you where you are without me. Till we meet again my love.

I am missing you.

With all my love