Interlude #3

Oh, Dustin, I keep trying and trying and trying, but all my days feel flat. I know you want me to be happy again, I know you don’t want me to hurt or suffer, but some things are just unavoidable.

I had a decent day today. A huge used book sale, I bought almost more than I could carry. I’m halfway through one already, but it was the first time I’d been in your old neighborhood since December, when I saw you last…and I thought about how much you would have loved the sale, how you would have been almost giddy over it, like I was. Your loss is constantly with me, unrelenting.

I miss sharing things with you-places, events, experiences. I miss talking to you and sharing our lives, insights. Is this the mark of true love, then? A desire to share, to see your own joy reflected back at you, magnified, in the eyes of someone you love? I keep turning to the place in my heart where you are, but I can’t see your beautiful blue eyes anymore, I can’t see your joy. I can’t feel you, now, feel the warmth and happiness and security I felt, knowing you were in the world, thinking of me, of us, and working to be together again. Now, I turn and you’re not there, and it makes me so unbalanced that I stumble and quail, and I feel your loss all over again. I feel alone, desperately alone. I have friends, I have family, I have people who love me. But I don’t have my partner, my other half. I’m a bird with only one wing, and I don’t know how to fly anymore. I am lost.