August 15, 2016

lost-piece-of-the-puzzle-aspex-galleryPieces of Me

There’s a piece of me that wants to throw myself on the floor and cry for Rupert. Sometimes, like this evening, I do. I have a lot of Tear Soup to make.

For now, I’ll just miss him and pour pieces of my heart onto the floor

There’s a piece of me that wants to rationalize everything. Push the feelings aside, and move on. This piece is hard even for me to understand. He died. Okay. Put it behind me, and move on. I’ve broken up with men and moved on many times. You take your lessons and you take your mistakes and you examine them and don’t make them again. Don’t go backwards and always make sure the next guy is better in some way.

I suppose I could do this with Rupert. Pack him up and get on with my life. We were a couple for a year and a week, and now it’s over. We knew each other for nearly 30 years. I’ve recovered faster from much longer relationships (but then, leaving a guy I’m unhappy with is a lot different than wanting to spend the rest of my life with someone and having him die suddenly, one year and a week in). I learned a lot and will take those lessons with me in the future. He would want me to move on. I’m still fairly young and attractive and have a full life ahead of me. So let’s pack him up and move on, okay?

Not so easy.

I hear the practical, unfeeling part of my brain, and it sounds like a clean and easy way to put this immense grief behind me. But grief doesn’t work like that. It hits like a tsunami and feels like it will never stop. The tears pour out and my shoulders shake and my whole body begins to tremble. And then I pick myself up, or friends help me get up, and I’m shaken and sad but mostly okay. Until another shock tsunami overtakes me.

My closest friend in the world told me yesterday that she’s sees a shift in my grief. It’s been six weeks. At first, I was on the floor. Life stopped. I was knocked down in the middle of an exhilarating run. Now, I miss him. I miss him intensely. I miss him hard. I miss him till the tears come and I’m on the floor and the tissues are soaked.

It is changing and it is a process and someday, somehow, I won’t get thrown to the floor by grief most days. For now, I’ll just miss him and pour pieces of my heart onto the floor, and listen to the sounds of the pieces of me work out the need to feel the feelings with the need to make it go away so I can put the next foot in front of the other.

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