not anymore

//

If you walked in the door you wouldn’t know us anymore.

We wouldn’t be the same, no more familiar faces, even our eyes shine differently now.

I used to find comfort in knowing you could walk back into your place in our lives, that you could catch up easily and not have really missed much.

It isn’t that way anymore.

You wouldn’t recognize me, or him, but maybe you would recognize him. Maybe, just maybe. He has the same sense of humor, the same playfulness.

This makes you feel even farther away, the you that was part of us wouldn’t even know us anymore. Not really. We have all changed so much.

I could not wake up on July 16, 2017 and have the known be untrue, have you actually there alive and present, sitting in the living room drinking coffee, just waiting until I woke up and wondering what we would do with a lazy Sunday.

I hate Sundays now, even more than I used to.

How can the truth be true?

I don’t believe in the personal Jesus anymore, I haven’t since late 2014. But I did cry out to a God I didn’t believe in while you were missing. You were gone. vanished. My compass blown to bits. My earth that I was standing on obliterated underneath my feet as I stared at it. Gone, just gone,. There was no preparation, no what will you tell them when, no goodbyes, no whys answered, nothing, nada, nothing, absolutely nothing. How could you do this to us? How? When the slide began, when the downward spiral caught your attention, why didn’t you ask for help? Why didn’t you tell me things had gotten out of control. Tell me, “I am in trouble. Please help me”. We were worth the whys. We were worth the embarrassment. We were worth you losing your job, if it came to that to solve the issues at hand. Why did you hide them? I was always asking how you were. You didn’t have to hide anything. I made it clear that everything was okay to talk about. Anything was open on the table. Nothing was silenced. You had an open invitation to tell me about anything horrible, why did you choose not to?

I talk to you as I swim. I hit the beach balls as hard as I can to let out some anger, and I ask you questions. I demand that you give me answers. The answers don’t come. I swim as hard as I can, against the water, I feel enveloped by the tears that surround me, that threaten to drown me as I gulp for air. The water touching all of me, just like the absence of you touches all of me. This living without you stuff is almost un-surviveable, almost un-doable. And yet somehow I am still alive.

I don’t know how to do this. I am 2 years out. What the actual fuck? You need to be here to teach the boys how to be men. I cannot teach them how to be men. I don’t know how. How am I supposed to do this without you? Like seriously, how?

Somehow, I am. I don’t know how I am, but I am. The days are passing, the months, the years even. How is this possible?

I thought I knew something about grief. I was terribly wrong. I knew nothing. Nothing. This is so far outside my knowing.

I am so mad at you.

As crazy as it sounds I don’t feel in my deepest parts that you ceased to exist on every level when you died. Am I just fooling myself, trying to self soothe, lying to myself, believing something only to bring me comfort? Possibly. But I don’t think so.

I don’t believe in the Christian heaven, so its not that. But there’s something. There is. And I don’t know what to do with that.

{zt}