- September 4th, 2012
It's been two months today.
A lot has changed, you know? Apart from the obvious there's been a lot going on.
I finished study, I finished my prac, I got a job (it's awesome and I love it).
Your daughter turned eight. Our nephew turned one. Our niece turned five. You and Katta turned thirty-two.
One of my bridesmaids turned eighteen, the other is just about to do the same. Cheez, I can't believe it.
I've made new friends. I've reconnected with old friends. I've decisively avoided people and am just not even going there. For my own good.
I've cancelled our entire wedding. I'm pretty sure I have anyway. Although I was really tempted to keep the bubble machine hire and just run it in my house for a day.
I love bubbles. You know this, you hired the damn bubble machine for me in the first place.
I've stopped wearing my engagement ring all of the time. I can't wear it at work, and I didn't wear it during my prac even before you were gone. It was a point of contention, actually. You died two days before I finished my first round of prac and I spent a good lot of time unsure what to do with my ring. I'd worn it on a necklace around my neck while I was working and it took me a while to figure out whether to put it back on after I was done or leave it on the necklace or get rid of it or...? I don't know.
I put it back on and it didn't feel wrong, so let's go with that. I take if off for work now and leave it on the desk by my laptop. I take it off before social family functions because somehow it was making other people uncomfortable and I just got sick to shit of the awkward shift when someone noticed it.
For goodness sakes! I'm exactly the same person as I was two months and one day ago, I might react a bit differently sometimes. I might move away from certain conversations. I might ask not to talk about something. Whatever, though, you know? Doesn't everyone at some point about something? I'm still me and it makes me so uncomfortable that I seem to be making other people so uncomfortable just by ... existing, I don't even know.
It's all your fault, by the way, just so you know. Not hating, just saying...
Am I not supposed to talk about you? Because I do, a lot, and damn people if they don't like it really but Jesus. I'm so sick to death of that look people give me when I drop your name. STOP FEELING SORRY FOR ME! I AM NOT THE ONE WHO FUCKING DIED SO JUST FUCKING STOP IT!
Contrary to apparent common opinion I am still here and I'd like to actually just get on with it, please. People keep telling me they're worried about me. I haven't done this 'properly' (I was unaware there was an approved model of behaviour for 'your fiancé has died' but there you go). I worry too, and anyone who will stop making sympathy face at me and stop judging my grief long enough to actually listen to the words coming out of my mouth will know that.
Look at my face, for goodness sake. I'm half broken and barely holding it together, but I am still here and I comprehend your looks and your gestures and your tones, people. I'm not an idiot, just a bit numb.
Here's the truth; I don't think I'm doing this right either. I think I should have felt a lot more and a lot stronger by now but I haven't so ... yeah. I don't know. I guess it's still coming and that's ok with me in the general scheme of things. I don't think I'm in any particular hurry to have that emotional breakdown because it's going to be atomic in proportion and I guess, in a lot of ways, I'm kind of terrified of that?
It's not going to be pretty. Necessary, I know, but still - messy.
No one wants to hear it though. As soon as you come up (no dirty jokes, this is a family show) they're all wide eyes and pats on the back and empty platitudes. I get a lot of hugs and I'm not complaining because I love hugs, but what I really want is just someone who'll listen, Nate, because I don't understand this and I really want to. I need to? I don't know.
I just want an open space with no judgement where I can blather on for a while and just make sense of this. I do want feedback but honest feedback, not just how sorry someone is or whatever. It's probably going to take a while, you know, but that's ok. Isn't it? Instead of moving too quickly through this I've just failed to start.
That's not true; hello denial. I've had kind of enough of you now and I'd like to move on to the next stage if that's quite alright. Please?
I want to cry and not be ashamed of that, not be worried that it's going to upset someone else.
I want to get angry if I'm ready to get angry.
I want someone to listen to my imbecilic bargaining without shutting me down and telling me it doesn't work that way. I bloody know it doesn't but that doesn't stop the thoughts from coming.
I want to tell someone that sometimes, for a minute, I feel like just walking out the front door and not stopping, ever, until I fall down and don't get back up. There are days when I don't know how or why I even bother getting out of bed but I do because I don't know what else to do. There are nights I'm too scared to go to sleep because of the crushing weight of memories that fall on me when I wake up again. That and the guilt when I wake up again because you didn't.
I want to laugh, I want to talk about how much I hated you sometimes and how angry you made me.
I want to gush about how much I loved you and how idiotic and funny and great and frustrating you were. How happy you made me.
How happy you still make me because you're still real for me, you're still here for me. Memories of you are in just about every single moment of every single day for me.
I see you everywhere.
Gee, Rach can't let go. That's new. Not.
I don't know why I have to.
Ok, I know why I have to...
I don't know why I have to yet. I don't want to yet. I'm not ready.
I have to find a way to deal with that and so does everyone else.
I want to know what you would do, if this was the other way around. I want to know how you would have dealt if I'd died first. I know half of it because we talked about it but that's not quite the same.
I want to hear about all the plans you'd made for after I'd gone because it's stupid but it was comforting. It's even more comforting now to think about just how long your life could have been. I thought it'd make it worse but it didn't because my imagination lets me see you living in those moments that weren't meant for us to share. I love you all the more for having lists of things we were going to do together and lists of things that you were going to do after... Just after, wasn't it. It was just called 'after'.
I have a lot of demands.
I'm not sorry.