The rain trickles down my windowpane early this morning, with the sounds of drops gently sprinkling the pavement. Sometimes, I would reach over to see if you were still lying there, or if you had already gotten up to get ready for work. Some days you’d surprised me. You would stay home and call in sick. On that rare occasion that you did, we would sleep in until midmorning and enjoy the leftover rain tapping at our window. We’d both get up and have breakfast together. I always preferred my coffee black. You put cream and sugar in yours, or even had tea on some days. We’d sit and talk for hours in the morning. We’d settle into the couch with our coffee mugs in hand, and discuss politics, religion or even gossip a little. We had little therapy sessions, and walked one another through each problem we were going through. Those days, I miss.
Sundays were your days off. We would sit outside, you’d read the paper while I rudely interrupted you with frivolous chatter. You were gracious enough not to call me on it. You responded to all my questions and comments without twitching. In the afternoon, you would pick off cherry tomatoes from your tiny tim plant. You loved them. I would watch you as you drank your beer and snacked on your tims. It was cute. It was your routine. It didn’t need to change. Those days, I miss.
On other occasions, we would trek out to our favorite rustic bar and restaurant for their famous bloody marys and some lunch. We were so engrossed with conversation; people couldn’t believe we were together for more than ten years. It looked as though we only knew one another for a short time. We had so much to say. We had so much to do. We planned vacation getaways and went through with them all. We spoke of past vacations and laughed at all the funny events that took place. Those days, I miss.
We would hold get togethers at our house. We invited all our close friends and some relatives. Food and beverage flowed freely. Many nights included dancing, really bad karaoke and a game of Gestures. (It’s like charades.) Everyone would have fun, and some people even stayed because they overindulged in spirits. Parties usually ended in the early hours of the morning. We were always a good clean up crew…okay, you were. As we lied in bed afterwards, we’d talk about the night’s events--who hooked up with who and who did what. Those days, I miss.
Even though it’s been a short time since our separation, I know in my heart that we’ll have many more good times ahead of us. You weren’t happy here—although you said you were. Your smiles lessened, and your laughs were dying down. Our home kept getting smaller, and smaller as the days went on. Though we still loved on another, we were getting in one another’s way. Did we just grow apart? We both felt the change beginning to happen in April. We ignored it…but it still was underneath the surface. We tried to rekindle it by going on vacation in May. Something somewhere got lost.
I’m here. I’ll always be here. You’re my family. I can’t help but go through periods of sadness. My crying sessions last a while, but somehow, I manage to put on a smile. Is it separation anxiety? Was it a mistake? I don’t know the answers to it all. Maybe we can figure it out along the way, while we settle in different homes. My heart has felt heavy the past few days. I notice more and more things missing. You plaid pajama pants are no longer on the side of the bed. You drawers were emptied out. Clothes from your closet have been swept away. I went into the bathroom to notice your make up bag was gone. You were gone.
Before you left, you bought two boxes of Kleenex tissues. I’m making good use of them. I started cleaning the house frantically, to get my mind off things. I’ve been cooking and preparing new projects. I’ve been trying to not cry. It doesn’t work. I feel the emptiness and heartache of my best friend separating from me. I know I wasn’t the easiest person to live with, but you deserve better. I wish I could have given you more, or made you feel more special. My depression sometimes overtakes my ability to do any of these things. If I don’t feel good about myself, I lose touch with any sort of compassion for those who need it. I lose all sense of ‘connection’; I drift away and become distant. I’m sorry.
Maybe time will give us a chance to see things clearer. Right now, I feel like I’m standing in dense fog. I can’t see what’s right in front of me. Once the fog lifts, I’ll have a better view of what I want…or what’s still possibly there.
Once in a while, I get some people asking me, "Why do you write such personal things up on your blog and on social media?" Some pe...
Matt & Alissa Walsh & The Duggars Within the last couple of days, I have been responding to a post entitled, "T he Duggars ...
The other day, I was reading what a fellow blogger, Ricardo was going through. He explained that he’s experiencing a lot of stress in his l...