My Heart Is With My Friend...
I promise you, this is the darkest part of the night. It's gonna pass, though.
Corey and I in 2012. He passed last December after a medical post-op fluke.
When I lost my ex-husband last year, I swear I grieved my marriage the same as I had 5 years earlier when we split up. It was different knowing that there would never be a time his name would pop up on my phone again. I would never be able to call him because I had really fucked something up trying to fix it myself. I would never get a call that I had mail at the house, or that he found my albums in the attic, or asking me if I had that 5/32 wrench he’s been bitching about since 2009. For the record, yes, I do have it.
But, I was lucky. I had already grown in my own direction. One that no longer included the love that I, sadly, still to this day feel for him. Although I never will really be completely over him, I have learned how to live a life, not a shell of one, without him.
The finality of the situation, though, is heavy if I think of him too often, so I try not to. I loved him with the power of a thousand hearts, I know that to be as true as any words I’ve ever said. To say that I begged God just to rewind the clock and take it all back on many drunken nights would be the understatement of my life.
I never thought I would get over him. When he passed, I felt the same way.
Today, my friend called me to tell me her husband had gone home for his run at the afterlife. Unlike Corey and I, she and her husband were still very much in love. Due to medical fuckery, it’s been a rough couple of years for her. The fact that he chose to go home with his typical proud fashion, on his own terms, surprised nobody. It seems that was his way.
I wished I could have said the right things. I actually said to her “I need you to pretend that I’m saying the right things right now”, because I didn’t have any of the right words, just some fucked up combination of crying and stuttering.
I’m sorry, girl. I’ll rewrite that shit with a lot less stuttering and crying, I promise.
That’s it. I still don’t have it. I don’t know it. I’m without the right words.
I’m here on the hotline if you need me. If anyone needs me. Or even if you don’t need anything. Sometimes anything is better than the roaring silence left here after I speak of things like this.
April, no need to apologize, you were perfect! I called to hear a friendly voice during an emotional crisis and you were there for me like always - supportive, helpful, and wonderful.