You just wouldn’t believe the hole in me, because you died.
You would be the first to yell at me to let it go a bit.
Like I said, you wouldn’t believe the hole in me, because you died.
Yesterday was one year since you let out your final breath as you arrived at the end of your journey.
What have I learned since then?
I realize that in a way, I’ve sort of grown up a bit. All those fears and issues I would have with life, you know the ones that we would always come back to in conversation, have had to be dealt with on my own. I didn’t have the safety net of you; the one person I could say anything to.
At first it was chest grabbing and crushing. I’d feel the panic start and that buzzing cycle that runs through an ever thinking brain, full of “what-ifs”. I have sort of learned over the last year that when I can’t reach out to you, I won’t explode. My world won’t explode but, I’ve had to resolve MY issues, on my own. That, or suffer the consequences of the cycle of obsessive thinking.
Over time, I’m learning to actually walk the rope of life on my own. Some days it is hard, other days, “I got this, girl.” Always though, I miss you and am grateful for you. Regardless of every thing you did and didn’t do to yourself, my hurt, anger, sadness…you have taught and continue to teach me much. I know I’ll never have a fill in for you, but I will always be a better friend, because of us.
I don’t feel guilty anymore for how I feel about your kids. They are mine now. We will always have a bond because of you and I will always be a tie to you, with them. I’m pretty sure you would be OK with that. Living, and watching your children grow and live, will honor you.. I will never be you to them, but I am Auntie and I will there when they need a mom figure to turn to.
The plus one day…
I woke up this morning, went out back to smoke in the frosty darkness. I thought:
So I, am 1 today. One year ago today I woke up to live without you holding my hand. I’ve been doing it one my own for a year and a day now. I’m pretty sure I am going to make it. It does feel like it will be ever so much longer without you here. I miss your laugh and you quick witted, cutting humor. I miss your love, though I know it is still there following me, as mine still does you. It’s the loss of physical you. It’s made me feel so selfish because all of this grief has been about me. My sadness. My loss. My feelings. Me, me me.
I still cry, just not as often. I just went to get a tissue to wipe my eyes and saw your ashes in the slender vile. I had taken them out the other night because I was debating them taking you with me on the one year day; to have you close to me. Instead I left you here. When I saw the vile I began to really cry. Holding the vile close to try and hug what I have left of what physically held your beautiful soul and then tucking you back in my safety place.
I also realize that everyday, the randomness of death touches someone. If you are lost, wandering, not knowing how to deal with your grief and reading this… I am so sorry for your loss. There is nothing I can say to you to make anything make sense, or stop hurting, but I do understand grief, and I am sorry you are here. My only words I can even attempt to share, the words I hang onto in the darkest moments are that Love…never dies. Physically, it changes how you live it, but it never dies, because it’s pure energy. I know that Melissa’s energy went back to beginning so it didn’t just die. It absorbed back into where it originated from. I originated from this place, and so did you. I just haven’t always recognized the moments that it still touches me, but a few times I have. Those little moments keep me going.
So, one year, plus one day. I still love you.
Only you could hear this, and understand my true meaning and how this relates to our friendship, my loss, coming to after the wreckage of the stroke.
Mr. Y and I had a talk a while ago. It wasn’t pretty. I don’t know if he meant to use his words to hurt me, but he did. The worst part, was him saying I was made the CHOICE to go to you in Texas, put myself in debt, etc. and that it was different from the choices he would have made. I mean I felt bad about the fact that I ran to you. I felt like it was wrong, but on the same hand, only I know I have been silently wishing I hadn’t gone, and given myself those last memories of you. No the worst part was him spitting at me that I have made him feel like a storage unit, a toaster and that he has given me everything and I want more.
I realize though, that I knew you were dying. As soon as D said the words, “My mom had a stroke and is in surgery now having a clot removed from her brain”. I knew.
And yet I don’t regret you dying and knowing, I was there for you and loved you and I had your back. It’s just that now, I hear the line, “If you walk out on me, I’m walking after you…I’m on your back” I lived this and it didn’t have a happy ending.
You can’t be everything. If you were, then I made a mistake of not eating a bullet and living another day to say I am alive. You just can’t be everything. My life was happening without you being here. You left a long time ago to Texas and I thought I would die then, but I learned to adjust. I learned to live again. I learned to be happy again. Granted I was on the phone with you damn near every day, I had learned to live without you in many ways. I began taking chances, I reached out for happiness and pretty much had it till the day you had a merry strokemas.
As much as I love you, I remain SO disappointed in you. You were too smart to be that stupid. So selfish. You left your fucking kids. You put something really other than them in first place. At first it was a person. Then it became the self medication. I have moments where I am still really fucking pissed off at you. It leaves me sitting here thinking, “Fuck you and your anguish. Thanks for destroying so many other lives (mine) on your fucking way out you bitch.”
I miss you and love you.
And always fucking will.
I’ve not been writing, not really reading others, working as usual, actually missing less time now that things have “settled down” and I’m back on a schedule, have no bugs, and no common cold, nor pneumonia.
So how am I doing, nine months after my friend had herself a merry little Strokemas? (Jesus, did I just type that and sing it in my head while doing so? I did.)
I am pretty crippled.
The last nine months have been the hardest nine months of my life. I feel abandoned by practically everyone. I can’t interact with people I have been really close to, without feeling abandoned by them. Isn’t THAT fucked up?
My friends, the people that love me, want to be able to say the magic words. I want someone to say the magic words. I want to know what the fucking magic words are!
The sad truth of the matter is that there is no magic anything anyone can say. I know this. They know this. And yet I am just terrified of losing other people. With some, I can feel the awkwardness of not knowing what to say to me, or how to deal with how I am so different. Yes, I am VERY different.
Melissa, was not my first best friend. I was 24 the first time I met her, She was 18. We became best friends when she married. I bar-tended her reception. We both got pregnant that year. I was 28 when I had my daughter. She was barely 22 when she had her son 6 weeks later. From the last trimester on, we were inseparable. Like I said though, she wasn’t my first BFF ever, but she was my soul mate and the loss of her, has really fucked me up.
I remember sitting by her bed, and realizing what was going on (the bigger picture) as I spent more time with her. I knew I was going to lose her. The bullet had already left the gun. It was then I realized that she was my soul mate. I’ll always remember the look on her face when I just started thinking my thoughts out loud to her. “You know what?” Her eyes got so big. I knew she was asking me “What?” so I continued. ” I’ve always hated the word soul mate. Women use it in a serial manner with men. The word has been cheapened. Serial soul mates. I just realized that all this time, my soul mate has been right here with me.” Her brow furrowed. She closed her eyes and a tear fell out of her left eye, rolling down her cheek towards her ear. I wiped it, told her I loved her…the 11 days melt together. The traumas become fuzzier, but I get flashes of the weirdest things, that just drag me away with them. There remain things, I can not say. Not on the internet, and not with most people. But these things need out. They are eating me up. I can’t keep them and they won’t let go, so I am in desperate need of some help.
I know what I WANT to do, but it is not conventional, nor would my insurance cover, nor sanction it. It is not something I want to do on my own. I would need a guide to get me through what comes up and out.
Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss her. It doesn’t get better. It gets amplified. Sure I feel less RAW, but there is a hole, and there is nothing that fills it.
I can’t hear this and not think of her. I change the lyric appropriately. She was and is my hero, regardless of her faults and flaws. I loved her like no other. She wasn’t ordinary though, not to me.
I started writing, because I kept having a thought over and over and I really just wanted to type it out, so I’ll leave you with what I was craving to say:
I lost my best friend and cried for the rest of my life.
I haven’t been writing, because I fell in a hole again.
In five days, I “bury” you at your memorial. I definitely feel like I am going to watch other people say good-bye to you, because I don’t think I’ll ever say good-bye, even though you need to let me go.
I dreamed of you all last night, woke up with a few tears falling and heard myself saying good-bye, but don’t go yet. I am scared this is going to be an emotional and hard week.
You told me (?) that was you and that you did come to me that night to show me how you were seeing things and what your reality would be on life support. I wish it wouldn’t have freaked me out when I realized you were with me. I wish I hadn’t gasped and said “MEL!”, and then woke up.
I miss you.
Please let go of me a little. I know that sounds weird coming from someone who will never let you go all the way, but you can’t keep hanging onto the part that makes me ache. I need to remember our friendship and love and not the last two weeks of your life and death.