That physically painful, gut tightening silent cry, screams that escape without sound. The cry that bleeds desperation and fear. Desperately wanting someone to ease the pain and say to me “just breathe, I am here”. The worst thing about this cry is that it only seems to happen when no one is around. Is this where my fear of being alone stems from? Is it simply that I know what will come when I am alone?
There is no one there to make me feel safe, to push me past the moment of desperation. The times that I am left alone with my thoughts are the times I feel most afraid. It begins with a seemingly endless dark pit of overthinking. The what if’s, why and what now. The physical pain then comes with longing for him. For a piece of myself that is missing, that will never be whole again. I long for the life we shared, the comfort in hearing his voice and the way my heart would beat when I was with him.
I miss you! I love you!
What more can I say, if only words were enough to bring him back. I would give all my words for just a minute with him again. The unknown scares me, not knowing how he is, wondering if he can see me, does he hear me when I talk to him. All of these questions and thoughts bring pain and sorrow.
There is pain that accompanies thoughts of the future we will never have together, the wedding I had dreamt of since the day I met him. Plans that will never be anything more than perfect broken dreams and beautiful memories.
After saying all of the above to a friend recently, in effort to explain why I don’t like to be alone they gave me a new perspective with some unexpected advice.
I discovered that although the unknown scares me, there is also an unknown beauty in not knowing what emotions and experiences the future brings. Although it’s not what I wanted to hear and I stated “it shouldn’t be this way!” my friend was still correct and as much as I want to I can’t deny they were right.
Before I had a child I use to say to the parents of my god children “I know how much you love them, I love them the same” They would laugh and respond to me “you have no idea”. But I couldn’t imagine loving a child more than I loved theirs, until I had my own. Then with becoming a parent, a new previously unknown love was experienced for my own child.
Similar to grief, people have no idea until it happens to them.
So although my future without John is unknown, unwanted and terrifying. There is also the possibility of a beautiful unknown. At the moment I don’t believe it to be a possibility, but only because I am yet to experience it. I do not believe in another love or another experience like the love and life I shared with John, but just because I don’t believe it doesn’t mean it isn’t possible.
Just because I am yet to imagine it for myself, doesn’t mean there isn’t a great beauty and love yet to be discovered in the unknown.
This perspective itself was unknown to me, and I find it brutally beautiful.