It’s been five months today. Five months. With most things in life (like Gavin’s birth) it seems like yesterday and forever at the same time. Not one ounce of this feels like yesterday. Nor does it feel like five months. It feels like it’s been years. Years since he kissed me, told me he loves me, made love to me. Years since he simply held me and called me his. It feels like enough time for him to have either returned or for me to be okay. Obviously neither of those is true, but it feels like it should be.
There have been many times where I hurt beyond what I thought I could manage. Times I questioned God’s very existence and even more when I questioned his love. Times where I’ve questioned my own sanity. Before this period, there has never been a time where I wasn’t sure how to just keep going. Keep going on. There was always something to go on to, something better if I only kept putting one foot in front of the other. Well, I still keep putting one foot in front of the other. Keep wasting other people’s oxygen. Keep eating, sleeping, waking. I keep going in order to see my family, to be with them; to do my best to be a friend to those I love (and I haven’t been doing very good at that lately), to see if the book gets published or not. However, for the first time, I’m not still going with the intent of the something wonderful waiting for me. Every step I take is a step away from the wonderful I had. Every breath is another moment longer, separating then and now. Each day is another day full of pain (even when I don’t talk about it—yes there are times I actually pull that off). Each day is a reminder of the beautiful life I had and mirror of what I am left with.
Black Coffee Tables
2 years ago