Earlier this year I started a post about moving on. I never published it because it has some very private memories that I cherish with someone that is no longer here, that I had not been able to move on from for close to a decade. When you are lucky enough to find true love, it is hard to let go, even if they are no longer walking the planet anymore.
Someone once asked me if I ever wanted to find love again. I thought “A true love story has no end, so no.” I have been blessed not once, but twice, with the magick of being cherished, adored, loved, and doted on and allowed to do those same things. Why be stingy?
I think a part of my brain was telling me earlier this year I could possibly have another chance at love when I started that other post. My heart and my head finally connected that it was OK to move on, to be with someone else, to love someone else, to let someone in.
I see this now: after I never made a move with the new person, never told him how I felt, or gave it an opportunity to flourish past friendship.
A few months ago, he passed away and I am reliving those same feelings of loss, of missing a piece of me, of checking to see if he is where I usually found him, checking for messages from him, when things happen in my life (that literally revolved around him) I go to tell him about it. My brain literally starts with “I have to show him” and I start out messages to him with “Lookie what happened today…”
It stops me short every time because he is not here anymore. I am never going to hear from him again, I am never going to be able to talk to him again unless I develop a habit of doing it while talking to myself. Which probably is not the best idea, the dog would be jealous, and I might be committed.
I am making jokes about some of this to be humorous, but I am trying to grieve him the best way possible. I miss my friend, I miss our talks, our laughs, the fun. I know it can be done. I do not know if I feel stuck or if I am finally moving through the process of accepting that he is never coming back.