If, as I can't help suspecting, the dead also feel the pains of separation [...], then for both lovers, and for all pairs of lovers without exception, bereavement is a universal and integral part of our experience of love.
"Baba, it was included in the booking, so it was free. Because this is all-inclusive. I don't mean it literally, you know? I mean, do it again, right now. Like rewind time and do it again."
"I swear to god you are trying to kill me."
"Who loves you, baby?"
"You do, baba."
"That's right .... I do. You are so beautiful ... to me."
And he set the timer on our camera and waited for me to stop bouncing and gravitate towards him by nature ... gathering me up in his arms and kissing me. All safe in my la-la-land. So indescribably and deliriously happy.
The photo captured our feelings - our spirit - on that day so well, and I think it was the only photo we ever took of ourselves, using the self-timer.
And I find myself wishing once more on the day of our wedding ... wishing I could turn back time ... to this time ten years ago. Just for a few minutes with him. Even if it meant exchanging the rest of my life ... even if it meant going through all this pain again. He is worth every second of it. Every fucking second.
Only you, baba.
I want to do it again. Still. Always.
Thank you so much, from the deepest and most sacred room in my heart ~ to Megan ~ for creating this cherished piece of art, with so much love, empathy, care and, most of all, for getting angry and hurting on my behalf. There is no greater gift.
I have always had to learn the hard way. Go to the bottom so I can climb back up.
So after hiding in my home and ignoring the world ... essentially pretending he's not dead, trying to give myself time out because I'm finally on top of things at work ... I finally woke up and noticed my Sky subscription and Internet connection has been severed (sorry for not commenting on your blogs) I finally stopped stepping over the pile of mail on my doormat. I finally started to take in the advice I'd gathered on diabetes.
So I'm feeling better. Work is good.
And tomorrow my girlfriend is going to open all the damn letters and bills and were going to figure out what I need to do. Cliffs still helping me. I have some money in the safe of his and some roof tiles to cash in. I might have to call in a debt or two - which won't go down well but that's tough.
I've woken up and it's time to take care of me now. If I don't take care of me I can't help anybody else, can I?
On Friday night I saw a man (and I use that term loosely) punch a woman. Several times. If you'd been there it never would have happened. I've never seen that happen before. I'm still in shock. I've not left my home since and shan't till it's time to go to work tomorrow.
My sixth sense came into play but really I was listening to what you'd have told me to do.
And so apart from being sad that people have no morals I'm reminded once more that you're not coming home.
Just moments before he punched her he'd spoken to me. Pretended to be charming. But I knew. He was looking in my eyes but I could see the madness in him. He said, "I'm not trying to intimidate you," and I replied, "no one can frighten me. You can't intimidate me. No one can. You have no idea.". I went cold and was calm. I saw a flicker of anger in his eyes as he realized, without understanding, that I was telling the truth and nothing but.
I think that sent him over the edge in his drink (and drug?) addled and clearly paranoid mind.
My reaction? I protected the dog in the room knowing it would attack him and that he would hurt him. Badly. So I watched the violence worsen as others tried to stop him hurting the woman whilst I covered the old dog - deaf now - ensuring I blocked his vision of this abhorrent scene.
When it was over I calmly walked home. But it's reminded me of how soft Cliff was with women and especially with me. A stark comparison.
And made me miss him more. And made me accept he's not coming home. Just a little more.
I hurt. Too much. Right now. I want you baba more than I need you. And that is how you measure love. To want someone more than you need them.