Several times today I found myself staring at pictures and instead of longing for the happier times, I was getting angry. I’d look at George’s sweet smile and gentle eyes and then murmur, how can you have left me? I know it’s not his fault and there’s nothing I can or could’ve done, but the feeling of abandonment stirred something new inside of me. I’m pissed off. I’m pissed off that I have 40-70+ years that I have to go and I’m going to have to somehow figure out how to overcome this loss and move on. I wanted a life with him. I didn’t want a life with anyone else. He got to spend his last days knowing that I loved him more than anything else. And now I have to go on and I don’t feel his love. I felt his love but that’s the past tense. I’m scared to move on because I don’t want his memory to up and vanish. I’m terrified that it will. People will move on and once and a while see something that might remind them of their good ole pal George, but those reminders will dwindle as years go by.
You know why they say survived by in the obituaries. Because that exactly what we are. Survivors. He left me to figure out how to survive and get by without him. And it hurts. It’s painful beyond belief to have to tack on a new 24 hours from the day that he passed. Soon it will be 2 months, then 3 months, then an anniversary, etc. And no matter how many tears drown me and leave me gasping for fresher times, all I have to do is survive. Survive the waves of grief until it doesn’t hurt anymore. And I am just floating on. And maybe in 5 years or so I’ll see something and remember my first love George. But right now, everything I see reminds me of what it felt like to have him by my side and all I want is to have him back.