I can see that the date was October the 15th and that I was very sad. Today I am also sad. One year has passed since I last spoke and here I am suffering from an insatiable loneliness. I curse loneliness. But I fear that my loss has created a defect in loneliness such that even when I am not alone I still feel deeply lonely. I have a list of things that have happened to me since that horrible day, a list of things to tell her. I suppose that I can forget this list but I can't help but ignore that futility just so that I can perform that task which I had repeated countless times with her. We would always talk about our days. I marvelled at how she wove such beautiful stories. She was a born story teller and I love stories. She could encapsulate dialog to the extent that you felt like you were there. There were people in her life that she would speak of and of which I felt like I literally knew though I had never met. As smart and eloquent as people perceive me to be I cannot do this simple thing of which she was so talented. Yes, I marvelled at her for that. Indeed, it was like living two lives. My own, of course, and then the one she told be about--hers--which was so detailed and elaborate it was nearly the picture in my minds-eye as if I had been there myself. I found such beauty and energy within her for this. She never gave herself credit and actually she believed herself to be some what of a "dumbass," as she would have put it; oh but she wasn't. I do not know if this is the case for other mourners but I can bring myself to tears just by thinking of certain things about her and our life together. I miss her so much. I do not want to detract from others' relationship with their own significant other but, for the most part, I rarely see two people that connected like we did. I needed no private time, I did not have a "mancave," I didn't have bros in order to escape from our relationship; no, every moment with her was like perfect. Even when she was alive I didn't feel as though I had a place in this world. Every where I went was wrong lest I was holding her hand. She was my bro. My best friend, my everything. Tears run down my face now just thinking of this.
I truly mourn that we never had any children. Every other couple I have ever seen deal with this widow bullshit the one left behind had semblances of their love in their family. While I think it would have been terrible to face losing her AND dealing with our children. Having lost my own dad at a young age I can say that it is terrible to lose your parent. And, again, I was closer to my dad than anyone, to the point that I didn't even really have any friends except for him, just like I was so very close to her. Counting my dad I have lost 3 best friends. And while I do regret feeling this, I secretly despise people that have had the ones they love for scores and scores of years. My mom's boyfriend still has both his fucking parents. Truly, I do not trust people that have not suffered loss. I think that if one's character gets to old age without learning those lessons that are wrought through misery, I do not trust you and I reserve that right. If you've been married for 50 years, just keep it to your fucking self, I cannot stand you showboats. Just the thought of having lived that many years with her, my deepest of love, it makes my knees weak. It makes my tears run! It makes my heart weep! Unfetter me from your undisturbed happiness--is what I would say. How can deep love be understood on easy street? I don't think it can. Perhaps I am just seething my own resentment for the fact that I no longer have anyone (though I am looking for a new love) but a 50 year marriage that has never been put to trial is as valuable as the 2 year marriage that is put to trial and collapses. These marriages are ostensibly the same but for the fact that one was tested.
My love and I were tested in many ways. Perhaps the deepest test was abject poverty. Her and I, we lived in Seattle for many years and there wasn't a single year that our joint return was over 20k. Now consider that and consider the fact that we lived in capitol hill and the u-district. These are not cheap places to live. I was not the best-looking partner but she was. She was propositioned often by other men, a lot of those times were right in front of me. My wife, she was beautiful. Even though there were a plethora of suitors with bigger bank accounts that promised lives filled with material luxuries, not once did I ever feel threatened by any of the hucksters because I knew! I knew that when she said she loved me it was the truth and I never doubted. We both struggled with health issues and both sacrificed to go to school. When she was diagnosed a manic depressive and it was likely that she never would be able to actually use her masters degree that she had struggled for so long to attain, that was something we also survived...together. We were so tightly bound within each other that to this day, a year and 5 months later, my inner-self still expects to see the lights on in the house when I come home and to see someone sitting there in the livingroom counting minutes until I got home so that we can drink from each other's soul. So that we may be in that heavenly destination of togetherness; it breaks my heart to think that I will never be with her again in that manner, but only in spirit. I do take solace in that my memories with her are the most valuable thing I have and they are something that can never be ceased or abridged. I will cherish them forever. I will make those memories mean something more than the great deal they mean already. They will be the largest and most vast memorial to ever account for another and they will be within me forever until I die and there isn't a moment that won't basque in them. Indeed, without them life would be hopeless. I miss you my love. Peace be with you!
~the saddest many on eaarth
