The Boulder in my Heart

I don't think people really want me to tell them I'm sad; that I wake up thinking about you every morning, carry the weight of your absence all day long until it pushes me stumbling and screaming back to my bed. 

I think they want me to tell them that memories are a sufficient replacement for your presence; that because you were good, I can smile -- everything will be alright, life will once again be normal, a void this big can be mended eventually.

But that's not true. And I'm tired of trying. I'm tired of all the supposed tos and shouldn'ts. And a memory isn't fucking good enough. 

I know how blessed I am to have had you. I know how much worse some people have it. That doesn't change anything. Every time I miss you it's the most I've ever missed you. Every time I break down, a quiet wail in the dark, I fear it will always be this way. I fear I cannot keep this charade going. I fear that every day I move forward is one more day I am further away from you; the body of you, the you I knew what it was like to laugh with and talk with and hug and hold.

Your death is not something I can ever be on the other side of again. 

I am different now. And you are somewhere I cannot hold you. And all I want is to hold you. And you can't wrap your arms around a memory. 

No matter how optimistic you may be.

I think I'm just gonna cry. And be okay with that. It isn't fair - life isn't fair - this isn't new, it's just never been proper to say it. 

Hello grief, hello mourning. Come sit with me and I will embrace you as a friend. It's the sanest thing I can do.