The Other Shoe

Today was my first day back at work since Kelly passed. It was unremarkable, save for a few tears here and there that I did my best to hide while shedding. How insignificant and ordinary everything becomes without your best friend and/or soul mate to help liven up the day. She always managed to do that for me.

Heartfelt expressions of sorrow coupled with hugs from a few co-workers set the tone for my morning. Yet, unremarkable the day remained. Polite conversations seemed all the more mundane. Or maybe it was just that I felt numb inside. The morning drive gave way to remembering that I would not see my love after arriving home tonight. There exists no rush to hurry home to an empty place. No kiss on the lips upon seeing my babe. No need to call and ask if she wants me to bring anything home tonight. There’d be no reply, thus no reason to make haste. I had absolutely no desire to deal with the end of the week. TGIF, my ass. I just had to come back, sooner than later, to get that part over with at least.

Loss of this magnitude is new in scope for me. Having experienced loss in the past under the semi-protective filter of distance and/or youth is different than this heartwrenching ache that overcomes every fiber of my being at any given moment. I feel like a fresh faced expert at something noone is fully prepared to face.

At this stage, adjusting to my new reality is like getting hit with a ton of bricks right in the kisser – then walking away as if unaffected only to be reminded shortly after that yes, the shit fucking hurts, bad! Then comes figuring out what’s harder to bear: the numbness or the pain.

I was sitting there, quietly sorting through my feelings when my cell phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number but I answered anyway. Lots of unrecognizable numbers have called my phone since her passing and I’ve done something I normally don’t ever do, and that’s answer every call. It was the hospital this time; a grief counselor whose name I don’t recall was checking up on me. It’s their third call thus far which is sort of impressive considering my baby died at home and not in the hospital. How interesting that she called today, and while at work of all places. Not a practical place for the showing of emotions but I made do. Her words soothed, her advice – practical, and in the end I tried my best to separate the anger and despair I recalled feeling at my girlfriend’s passing with those times when she was strong and healthy.

I miss her so much.

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2 Responses to “The Other Shoe”
  1. Ang Lawrence says:

    For what it's worth, I am sending you much love and keeping you close in my heart. There are not words, I know, that can be said or written at this time that would ease this pain you have with you. Just try to remember that you will somehow be guided thru this dark tunnel and see the light once again. Peace my friend, may you find that peace within. <3

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