You

For the first time in months, I just looked at photos of you. I’ve actively avoided for so long that I have no idea when I last did. And it felt just like I thought it would: bittersweet, but more sweet than bitter. 
I still think you are gorgeous.  And all the things I loved about you physically are still the same. Your lovely eyes, subtle masculinity, sexy body, great arse. You are just perfect, and I’m glad that for such a short time you were able to trust and enjoy my opinion of you, even if you didn’t believe it yourself. I can see your self confidence growing in some of the photos, and I love the fact that you took so many just for me. I hadn’t forgotten how you look, but it feels more concrete now that I have.
And the violence of your death, and the fact that it was self inflicted hit me for the millionth time. Such a huge loss, such a waste. As I’m in a much better place, initially I feel anger towards depression and how it took you from us. Then the thought process kicks in and the clouds gather. Your blood on my hands. I may as well have pushed you onto the railway line.
I let a tear fall and blink back further ones. I’ve got to be strong. It is OK to grieve. But you took your life because depression told you that you were worthless and should die. Many people blame me, including me. But at the end of the day, your mind was infected, and that infection took you.
Maybe one day I’ll be able make peace with myself.
Nothing’s changed. I still love you. Oh, I still love you, SM x

One Year

This is an anniversary we shouldn’t have to mark.

Shouldn’t have to mourn.

Shouldn’t have ro relive. 

The world is worse off without you. So many people broken by their loss. I am a shadow of my former self; how I am still here I barely know. One whole year of keeping on keeping on.

And that’s just me. The harlot, homewrecker, slag, slut,  whatever. Never mind that I was your confidante, kept you alive for so long, talked you down when you were at the edge before. 
I never met your children, but I fell in love with them anyway. I miss them and I worry for them. How they will cope without their loving father. I’ll never know, and I’ve come to terms with that, but I still worry.
A piece of everyone who loves you died with you. That broke me, and even now it is far too painful to consider. I did this. I ruined so many lives and I am truly sorry. But like so many things, no one will know. And I doubt wants to know. I shoulder the blame and I deserve the ill feeling. I have considered every possible way I could’ve stopped this outcome countless times, and I wish with every fibre of my being that I could change it. Not for me, but for your many, many loved ones. 

My only consolation is that you are released from the prison of your head. That you no longer hate yourself, no longer worry uncontrollably, and no longer have to pretend that all is wonderful. 

One year at peace,  that’s what we should be celebrating. But life isn’t the same without you, and we are only just starting to work out how the hell we do it.

Beyond the Grave

Thank you, SM.

I’ve had a royally shit couple of weeks at work, and I was dreading today. I was perilously close to going AWOL and telling them all to stick it. The only reason I didn’t was because of you.

It felt so real. At work, the meeting room, in dress down because of the heat. You were purposely leaning towards my seat with your leg across my leg space. I sat down so that my leg touched yours, playing secret dangerous footsie like we used to. Then you leaned in and told me you still loved me.

My first reaction was extreme joy. Elation. Then I remembered that this couldn’t be real as you are dead. I told myself to enjoy it while it lasts. I don’t remember the rest of the dream.

I woke up feeling shite. Crap day ahead, and my dreams are taunting me. However, it dawned on me, whilst I brushed my teeth, that I could interpret this another way. A message from you to be strong;  that I can do this. And of course, that you still love me.

And so I got through today, thanks to you. It was shit but I did it by remembering your message. Please come again soon – although it hurt when reality hit, the good bit was worth it.

I love you, SM.  Until we meet again, x.

Anniversary 

I’ve struggled this month. It all kicked off between us a year ago: the realisation conversation, the first kiss, the tidal wave of emotions pouring out, the amazing first time we had sex, and then today, the first time you told me you loved me and I said it back. So when your best friend added me to Facebook and then deleted me, I’ve come crashing down.

Bloody social media. I know you hated it. But the reason it hurt so much, threw me into this trough of murky black gloom, is because the first thought I had was that you were still alive and he wanted to tell me.

I just can’t cope with that glimmer of hope, even though I know it’s impossible. I still hang on to it, just in case, and when it turns out to be me being a div, this happens.

There’s a short list of things I want to do now:

  1. Die
  2. Drink myself into oblivion
  3. Lock myself away from the world and cry until my face is swollen and I fall asleep with exhaustion .

That’s in order of preference.

However for now, I’m going to do the right thing and try and meditate myself out of this. Once the kids are in bed later, I’ll partway complete number 2, maybe 3 as well, then tomorrow I’ll dissolve myself into work and hope that getting out of my head in all these various methods will do the trick.

I love you, SM.

Struggling

The only time I’ve ever wanted to kill myself more than now was the first time the thought entered my head.

I’ve had such a bad day. Reading about the memorial to you at work hit me so, so hard. Then this whole thing with my sister has just pushed me down the slope. I’m so lonely. And then coming home to a letter asking me to prove im alone was the last straw. I need you so much. I just want to be with you.

My son is the only thing keeping me alive.  The thought of him waking up alone in the house tomorrow sickens me, so I can’t do it. But I want to. Right now, I just want to be in your arms. Saying nothing, doing nothing. Held tight, your love tangible in the air.

I know you had demons you couldn’t carrying on fighting. I wish you were here and could help me fight mine.

I love you forever, SM x

Still Here

“If you asked me how many times I think of you, I’d say once, cos once you were in my head you never came out”

I found this quote totally by chance today; I wasn’t even looking for it. It blew me away and I had to read it about 7 times. But it’s so true. It’s been 4 months since you couldn’t take any more; 4 months since you left. And not a moment goes by when I don’t think of you.

Everything reminds me of you.
I want to tell you stuff about my day.
Share jokes, news, office gossip and banter.
Show you things I think you’ll find interesting.
Tell you things about me that we hadn’t gotten round to discussing.
Share every second of my life with you, and yours with me.

I’m discharged from therapy now. I feel stronger, more like myself again. But the loss of you hits me still a couple of times a week at least. That raw remembrance that you aren’t here anymore. That you actually did it. It still hurts; the edges are slightly dulled with time, but it it still fucking hurts.

And as much as I know that I need to live, for my children, family and friends, overall, I still want to be with you.

I don’t know if that will ever change.