Last night I was finally at peace. My head was resting on George’s shoulder as he was typing away on his computer. He was putting the finishing touches on his script, and I kept reaching over trying to fold his computer, and get him to turn the lights off and go to sleep. He was playfully pushing my hand away, and said “I have until midnight to finish.” My warmth, and full heart was quickly shattered by my apartment’s fire alarm. My mind was mendacious and brought me hope. This sliver of hope was a horrid disappointment when I woke up shivering and my head was resting on George’s empty pillow and my right arm stretched over to where he would usually be. Devastation doesn’t even begin to describe it. I felt like I had entered Armageddon. The fury that surged through my body that moment I realized I was alone, can only be like someone who’s extremely dehydrated and they think they find a well to only realize it’s been filled in with cement. I’ve had emotional pain, but this was the first time it actually caused physical. My chest was aching and my limbs trembling. I wanted that dream to be my reality so badly.
As more days come in-between the last time I was with him, I’m starting to think more and more about how going on without him will become more challenging. Life does go on, and I accept that. But he was my life. We were beginning to build our lives together. We were supposed to get into irrational arguments and then make up over cups of tea while watching Modern Family. We were supposed to go to the dog park together and watch our fur-child play with other mongrels. He was supposed to drag me out to concerts and plays to expand my mind, and I was supposed to drag him to basketball and lacrosse games to expand his manliness. We were supposed to travel to LA for the holidays. We were supposed to continue enjoying our time together, because every moment was blissful.
I know I’m supposed to not dwell on the time I’m losing by losing him but cherish the memories we had together, but some days I can cope with it better than others. My mind, body and emotions are capricious and difficult to sort through. Today is one of them.
On my way to work, I was a mess, but I started thinking about his first birthday we spent together. It brought me happiness to think about it. His birthday is on July 12th. For any American history fans, this is the same day of the infamous Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton duel in Weehawken, NJ in 1804. George knew I loved Aaron Burr, so he planned for us to go visit the duel site. We took the ferry over to Weehawken, and it was a gorgeous summer day. Sun was bright, the clouds looked like they were painted in the sky, and the air was not too thick with humidity. When we got to Weehawken, the dock was below a massive cliff and I remembered that the duel site was on top of the cliff. So we immediately started scaling these steep staircases to get to the top. When we got to the top of the cliff there’s a bust of Alexander Hamilton indicating it was the duel site, and when we took a picture, the face of Hamilton was crying. But off in the distance was a wedding. Looking back at that day, I do think it was a little foretelling. With complete joy, the shadow of anguish lurks.
Dear George, I’ve always wanted to tell you that, you’re the greatest man I’ve ever met and you brought the best out of me. You made me the happiest woman in the world, and seeing your face when I got off the train at Grand Central stirred up feelings I never knew I had. Moving in with you was the second best day of my life, but marrying you was hands down the best day and best decision I ever made.
I’m too emotional to continue. I’m sorry. 2 pictures today