Three Months

Dear Mel,

Tomorrow is three months. I miss you SO fucking much. Part of me tells myself that it’s “already” been three months! Get off your ass and get your shit together! The other part says, “It’s only been three months?! Life without you is going to seem like an eternity!

I had to stop writing to you here till I accepted that you are gone. You really aren’t going to call me ever again, I’m never going to hear that, “Hey Girl!” again. There is no mistake, you’re gone. I hate it, but I know it is true.

Remember the only concert we went to? kd lang, the Invincible Summer tour. She sang Hallelujah. We had good seats. It was right before you left for Texas, that God forsaken shit hole that I am convinced, houses Hell. There is one kd song in particular that has become your song. Though you have so many songs, this one really rang true to me this morning, when I was sitting in my car, in the dark, early for work.

I don’t think tomorrow, I want to write about the three months mark. In fact, I wish I could just let the day slide by, but I imagine, or at least I thought so on my drive home, that for a while, the 8th of every month will probably make me think of it, since I am now counting your death in months. At first, it was days, then weeks. One day it will be years. An eternity…life will be that without you.

I’m not so angry at you. I’m still pissed, don’t get me wrong. I always will be, but the love will by far outweigh the anger. I even managed to have a happy memory of you this morning, when I thought of us at the Egyptian getting ready to see kd lang together!

I still see your eyes. Your in the hospital dying eyes. Staring into mine. J asked his dad if he did the right thing not spending lots of time with you. I told him to tell him I think he did. It was his preference to remember you as you were in life. My problem at the moment is that I can’t un-see so many things I saw. I hate that the last time we locked eyes, was the suction debacle in hospice.

I told the lady in the grief session about that. All of it. I said out-loud to another human being that I whispered to you if you didn’t want it to bite down, and you did, and your mom fought you as I held your face in my hands, eyes locked, jaw clamped, breathing heavy, fighting her every step of the way, wanting death on your terms. Do you know what she told me? This grief counselor lady? She told me I honored you, our friendship, your wishes, and I had your back.

It was like she understood what I was trying to do with you as you walked that road. I just wanted you to know how fucking honored I am to have been your friend and soul-mate in life.

We had something a lot of people don’t have. I may have had shit luck with relationships that are romantic, but I fucking nailed it with you. It’s not something that is just an in life thing, because through your death, I have learned and will continue to learn. A lot.

I’m so lucky our last words were that of love. I still hear them.

ME: K girl, it’s 11:30, I’m tired, tomorrow is Christmas, I’ll talk to you then. Goodnight, I love you!

YOU: K Girl, Love you too! Night!

SIcknSin

Always.

Advertisements

About iwentcrazy

I am very, very, very average. And very, very, very lucky.

Posted on April 7, 2015, in Anger, Death, grief, Honey Bee, Life, Love, Musica!, Relationships and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: