BigSis

A Journey
2013-06-11 03:11:20 (UTC)

it gets better, so they tell me

the tears just flowed tonight. they could keep flowing if i didn't stop them. at least for now. i keep trying to find a better angle on everything. a better handle. a better way to deal with it. a better way to wrap my mind around it. some handle on the whole thing. i keep trying to find a handle. something i can hold onto. and even as i type that, i can't help thinking, i wish i could hold onto him. i wish i could talk to him. oh God, how i miss talking to him, hearing his voice, hearing his laugh. not just the goofy one, but the genuine, chuckly laugh he had. God, how i miss that. how i miss him. how i miss his face. how i miss his hands. how i miss his eyes. how i miss his heart. his beauty. his goodness. his strength. his tenacity and veracity. how i miss the way his voicemail sounded. how i miss that man. how i miss that baby. i can't help missing him. but then i have to remind myself that i'm being stubborn and selfish. his journey is his. it has little to do with me, in the end. i didn't chart it. i didn't even know the chart. none of us does. his world and mine, and all of ours, ran together for a while, a glorious 29 years... and now his journey must continue. and i have to celebrate him. because i know that he was made special and of some really, really good stuff.

i get urges where i just want to talk to him. maybe go to the gravesite and sit and talk to him. oh i love it when i see him in dreams. i mean, it's bittersweet, because even in the dream, i know we're only visiting. but i'm doing better now. when the realization dawns on me in teh dram, i don't kick and scream and beg him to come back. i just tell him how good it is to see him, and how he can visit anytime, and how we love it when he comes to see us. i haven't seen him in a few days now. it's always so bittersweet, equally.

my apartment is a fucking trough. and i'm trying to care but... i'm trying to care. the grownup in me knows that i shouldn't live like this. i know better. but i'm trying to care. every weekend, i tell myself, okay, this weekend i'm gonna clear everything out. clean the house. fix the house. and every weekend, i wake up, sit in my spot and... i try to care. my social life is at a grinding halt. i'm trying to care. moreso because i don't want to be a complete hypocrite. i can't tell T to get out there and have a life while i remain hemmed up in my apartment. but if left to my devices, i'd only leave the apartment when it's time for work. i thank God i'm getting better at that though. getting up and getting out of bed for work isn't as painful, isn't as laborious as it used to be. God is good.

i don't know what to do with all this grief. what do i do with all this grief? with all these thoughts? with all of it? what do people do with all that pain, even after they've figured out how to manage it? how do people DO this?




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