I just tried calling DSB, on the last number I have for him. It went straight to voicemail. I don’t know what I would have said, had he answered. I probably would have just continued crying, as I have been for the past hour. I know I haven’t been great about responding to comments in a timely fashion, but everyone keeps talking about grieving and grief. I guess it is now sinking in that this is what I am left with — grief. And I have to find my way through it.
I feel like, for the moment, I am over being angry and celebratory over our break-up. Now I just feel sad. The way it feels now, its as if DSB had died and I am left with the emotional and physical wreckage, and I can’t see or talk to him anymore. Those are all true things, about the wreckage, about not being able to see or talk to him. But he didn’t die; at least not in a physical sense.
Which is strange, because I have been preparing for him to die for the last six months. He has just been so sickly and has had some close calls and I spent many nights waking up to check if he was still breathing. I spent the last six months thinking I could lose him in a split second to another blood clot or from not being able to breathe due to the pneumonia or a septic infection in his wound vac. I have been preparing myself, anticipating his physical death.
So why isn’t it easier on me? If I had been so sure that he was going to pass away from physical reasons, and be gone, then why is it so hard that he is alive and gone? I made him go. So that should make it easier. For some reason, it doesn’t.
I find myself lacking closure. Everywhere I look, there is a piece of him. A necklace he gave me, our matching recliners, the entire office in general, TV shows we watched together, sitting at the dining room table having coffee. It’s just too much. There is too much of him in this house and it makes me feel terrible. It gets worse when I sit outside and think of all the times we hung out in the backyard with the dogs, when we very first got together, and grilled every night and sat back and bullshitted until past the time the sun went down.
I also find myself avoiding any meals or foods that he generally liked or wanted to have around. This is the longest I’ve gone in two years without eating biscuits and gravy. Or breakfast, really, of any kind. In the early parts, he always cooked up a big breakfast on the weekend, sometimes on the weekday if we had the stuff to do it. He loved making breakfast, but he always made such a damn mess.
I miss the sweet things that he did for me back in the start of our relationship. The thoughtful birthday and Christmas presents, the sweet emails or putting stuff to make me smile on my FB timeline. I don’t know what I did to make him stop loving me the way he did in the beginning. It’s as if, over time, I started to emanate some sort of negative energy and he just couldn’t stand to be close.
I don’t know if there was something I could have done to make him love me like he did in the beginning. I guess I just wore him out. He wore me out, t0o. I think we both decided to end it at the same time. It’s probably good we’re over, but it feels like my entire world is falling apart and I have to scurry around and pick up the broken pieces.