Sunday, May 17, 2009

four weeks, twenty-eight days, six hundred seventy-two hours, forty thousand three hundred twenty minutes, give or take

It’s been four weeks today. It feels like years, yet somehow hurts more than the moment it happened. I thought that maybe today would be okay. I hadn’t really lost it since Monday. However, last night was rough, and today was worse. “Field Day” was going on today, and Chad and I had such a great time at that last year. It hurt so much to think of him there having a good time, not needing me the way I need him. I was helping my brother move today. He moved into his new apartment. It seems rather rhythmical that he should move out exactly on this day. He has been staying with me since Chad left. Now it is officially just me, Dunkyn, Dolan, and eight goldfish (only three are named—the professors).

After moving my brother, Mom, Dad, and I went to a concert at church by P R-L—the P of P, C, and S R-L. It was fantastic, his singing was beautiful and I always feel better when I am with them. The last four of five songs he did, the kids got up and danced in front of the church, including his darling daughter. Not danced in a show kinda way, but just for the fun of it, reveling in childhood sort of dancing. All of them spinning and laughing and falling. He sang a song of lamentation over the death of his newborn son, whom they lost last year. The longer I live, the more I love life, the more joy I find, the more love I experience. However, the longer I am here on this Earth, the more pain I hold. I thought I had hurt as much as I could, and then Chad left, and I find that I didn’t really know what pain was. As much as I hurt now, I know that I will one day hurt more. My folks may die, I may loose a spouse, I may loose a child, I may loose a brother. I don’t know how I could go on with more pain than what I am experiencing now. Most of the time, I don’t know how I am going on currently. It is only by God’s grace, and only through the love of my family, friends, and even Chad.

I wish I could shake it. I wish I could stop asking questions and wondering. I wish I didn’t need to know why. I wish I could just shrug it away, but I can’t. Did he fall out of love with me? I don’t think so. I really don’t. I think he loves me as much as he ever did. Which leads one to ask, did he ever really love me? Or why wasn’t his love enough for him to choose me over whatever it is he chose over me? Why is he able to go out dancing, drinking, and being with his friends night after night, not pausing to desire the life we shared?

Saturdays are always the hardest thus far. Each one marking another week he has chosen all else but me. Another week taking him further from returning. Mom asked me today if I relive the day he left on Saturdays, thinking that may be why they are worse. I don’t, actually, the day he left was agony, but it wasn’t the worst part. The worst part is that he is gone, that he chooses something else over a life I never dreamed I could have. I remember us at Sea World. Him playing a stupid ukulele on the sidewalk as we waited for a table in Old Towne San Diego. I remember us walking across the bridge in San Francisco. I remember making love in Estes. I remember our week on the couch watching Buffy after his appendectomy. I remember the weekend we stayed with his parents in the mountains. I remember his lips and his arms, how safe I was on his chest. I remember how he swished when he walked, even when he tried not to. I remember our plans for this summer, our plans to go to New York one day, our talk of buying a house and a mini cooper and bulldog. I remember his eyes that were almost yellow sometimes. I remember crying with him, laughing with, simply being at peace with him. That is what goes through my mind. All the good we shared, all the love we had. And while I am thankful for it, it always comes back to why? Why could he leave? How could he leave? Why wasn’t it enough? Why wasn’t it worth the effort? Why wasn’t I?

So, here I am in my house, that I used to love to so much (and will again, I am sure), with my dogs that I adore (thank God they are here), with the bed we shared so much in, on the couch where we fell asleep almost every night, and all I want is to feel his arms around me and feel his lips on mine, to hold him close and rest my head on his chest, and know that I am loved, that I am living a dream I never thought I could have, and simply have my life back.

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