Hoping there’s internet access in the hereafter
Hiya Sweetie,
I can’t believe it’s almost December. I am used to being without you, and not used to it at all. I sigh a lot, and tell myself it’s only temporary, but tempus fidgets, and the tempus in this case is of unknown quantity and could be another whole lifetime to me. It’s all relative. I guess that’s the sign that I’m not "grief-free" yet, not that I really thought I was, but that I imagine myself sighing for the rest of my life. Sometimes I wonder if that’ll subside, and when it does, will it feel like freedom or will I mourn again? Maybe both. I probably shouldn’t worry about it. The future will take care of itself, regardless of what I think. I cannot worry it into submission; I can’t speculate it under my control. I did it for years, and it never did one damn bit of good. My world was pulled out from under me anyway when you left, and there’s nothing I could do about it or undo about it, no matter how much I want to.
I still find myself disbelieving this. How could they be scattering your ashes? You have ashes??? Where are you? How can you not be here? I find this so peculiar, that the bafflement persists when I am not at all unclear on the facts. Perhaps that’s the issue. My brain knows you’re gone, my mind tries to make sense of it in some greater scheme, such as that of "what I thought my life would be," and fails miserably, and my heart doesn’t want to have to believe it. My heart just wants you. That’s all. Don’t even try to talk to it about anything else. Don’t try to talk sense to it; it ain’t listening.
It always comes back to that: it matters not one iota what I know or understand or glimpse of the greater universe as a result of your passing. I just want you, here, with me. For everything that’s changed, for all the "progress" I’ve made through my grief, that feeling is an eternal flame. It hasn’t changed. I don’t know that it ever will.