We’re coming up on four months. It feels like four years. So much has happened since my boyfriend died, and four months is so little time. I can’t understand it, really just can’t wrap my brain around it.
I’ve been traveling and am heading home tomorrow. I can’t wait to get home, and I’m worried about going home. It’s been an intense trip with a lot going on. I spent time with a lovely new guy I’m seeing, I kicked off graduate school, and I visited my daughter. I’m exhausted and cannot wait to be home.
I had one very hard night during this two week adventure. I fell apart after the first night of classes. He was so excited for me and so proud of me for going back to school, and it absolutely devastated me that I couldn’t call him and tell him about it. I sat in my rental car and cried for well over an hour, and then I walked nearly six miles in the dark. I’ve felt stronger since, but my recent experience coming home from traveling has been very, very emotionally challenging, and I’m worried for my heart.
So I’m dating and there has been a fair amount of interest, and I’m being picky. As my friends and I have said time and again, Rupert raised the bar. I’d rather be alone than be out with someone that isn’t a fuck yes, and that doesn’t think I’m a fuck yes. No “and nothings” (interest, interest, interest, a date is discussed, crickets) and no going backwards. The motorcycle thing is harder because clearly I have a type (but still so triggering and scary). I’m not seeking a monogamous relationship just yet; I’m venturing out slowly and carefully and my focus is on heart connection. After all, I’m still in love with a dead man. Likely, I always will be.
The grief is compartmentalized, though. I know I’ll love again, and it won’t change my love for Rupert. I know I’ll understand it better in a few years in hindsight, but I know now that my desire to date, connect, explore, and be intimate with others is as different from grieving as going to school or work. The one thing I’m sure about is whomever I’m dating needs to be strong and mature enough to accept my grief. It is going to show up sometimes.
I’ll return home tomorrow to my new room. Before I left, I cleared out his belongings and photographs, and I made the bed up with all new sheets, duvet cover, even new pillows. It’s lovely and the energy is nice. My desk is in there, and I’ll work hard at school and my businesses. I’ll reclaim my space as my own, and life will continue to move forward with the bar raised. It’s not the life I thought I’d be living, but it’s still a life worth living.
I don’t believe in fate, and I don’t believe in things happening for a reason, but I do believe you get back what you gift, and I believe in magic.
And so I will get through the four month anniversary this week, and I will get through his birthday next week, and then it will be five months and then six and my life will continue moving forward until I, too, am grieved by those who love me.
The door is open, and I’m walking through with my head high and my heart open.