I’m having a moment.
I’m feeling raw.
I knew it was coming. I expected it.
I knew that I would feel this way once he stopped coming back.
And I knew that he would stop coming back.
Last weekend was so awkward, I wasn’t myself. It was Thanksgiving, though, how could I be myself? Thanksgiving three years ago was the last time I got to talk to the person I loved most in the world. I saw him once more but he was already unconscious. That was three years ago today.
Too many things are going on. I can’t separate the emotions.
Memories of sitting in an airport terminal in Los Angeles, knowing that I was racing time to get home before he died, and intertwined with wondering if I misjudged the situation with The Visitor (there, he has a nickname!).
I might need a hug… or something else.
I don’t even know if I can talk to the visitor about this. Does he want to know about it?
But I don’t regret it. Sorry. No, I’m not.
Also intertwined in the mix of emotions is hurt. The people I would usually talk to about these things don’t want to hear about it. I won’t be sorry about what I did just for them.
Yet, I’m finally feeling like myself again. True, I’m feeling pain but it’s authentically me. It’s better than what I’ve been over the past two weeks.
I might be on the edge of tears all day but at least it’s real. It’s sorrow over what was rather than anxiety over what might or might not be.
Sorrow is something worth cherishing. It means that you once had something worthy of that emotion.
Today I was going to write about the newest changes in my body. I was going to tell all about how my boobs might have hope after all and how the bane of my existence, my pooch, has significantly shrunk. I was going to make jokes about my narcissism and how it’s a good things that I don’t have to look in a pool of water to see my reflection because I would surely drown.
That was before I remembered the date.
I’ve decided to actually feel my emotions today. My hurt and fear over The Visitor might be irrational but my sorrow and loss is not. They are too intertwined to untangle so I’ll let myself feel them both. Maybe in doing so, they’ll both find resolution.