The smell of summer begins to creep its way through my basement window and fill the air with its enticing scent. I used to love this smell…it used to comfort me and somehow draw me back to earth and keep me grounded. Now…staring at the plain white walls in this room, sitting in this bed that is not mine, STILL looking at boxes that have everything I own in them…the smell that used to bring comfort, brings pain and confusion. Today I hit a wall…actually - Sunday I hit a wall. My dreams began to consume what was left of my life, and I began to feel very angry. So angry in fact that it drained the life out of me…and I can only pray that the goals I have set for tomorrow will be accomplished by me focusing the anger to get them done.
Angry. Such a strange emotion to mix with grieving - but when you are the one doing the grieving, it makes the most sense sometimes. Sometimes it is the easiest way to express any emotion, and its an easy one to try to get rid of. When I lost daddy, I was very angry at God for a long time. The cancer he had was most commonly seen in African American males 65 years or older - and yet God thought it was “best” to take him while he was only 45 with two daughters about to embark on the beginning of their lives? It is easy to be angry at God, and I told Ryan so many times that he too could be angry at God. “He’s got pretty big shoulders Ry, just tell him you are angry.”
Suicide is something that no one will understand, ever. The detective who handled the case told me that 95% of suicides never leave a note, and the 5% that do - their loved ones still don’t find much comfort from their words. He told me not to obsess over Ryan not leaving a note. In an instant he made up his mind to take his pain away, and leaving anything to comfort was far from his mind. Anyone who is reading this, I want to make it more than clear that the love I have for Ryan was and still continues to be real. Part of my personal healing though, is to be angry at him for what he did. It does not diminish any of the feelings I had or do have - nor will it ever. Someday I will forgive him, and I’m sure my God will help me to do that so I will feel at peace again - but until then…every night I go to sleep, I fall asleep obsessing over what my life is now.
Most days I don’t have the desire to get out of bed until noon, and when I do - taking care of myself is not on my list to do. I eat - because that’s comforting to me and it is keeping me from doing something drastic that would harm myself. I see my future in my head - I even look up apartments online, but my body feels weak and still so full of tears - so I don’t work. My days are pointless, I accomplish nothing, and my confidence in myself has gone from shattered to almost nonexistent. I was lucky to have a paycheck from my previous job so that I could avoid overdraft fees on both my checking and my savings accounts, but now that money too is dwindling fast - with nothing to show for it except tighter fitting clothes and a horrible self image. My brother laughed when I complained like a child that my mother made me take a shower - but I had no idea how truly difficult such a simple task would become after losing him.
My life now? Bouncing from job to job, living out of boxes in my parents basement, terrified of the garage that holds the rest of the boxes, no money, no furniture, and very small hope that by August although emotionally I pray I will be ready - I will be lucky to have the money to move in, and probably sleep on an air mattress with no other furniture. So many people are discussing career options for when they graduate college, or their degree program is now focused on their major - and I have not the slightest clue what I want out of my future. It’s a terrifying place, and I admit every single day that I hate it. I should be falling asleep next to Ryan right now fighting him for my half of the bed and wondering, with a smile on my face, if he is going to be so kind as to wake up with me to make breakfast before we BOTH go to work that day - with Zeaka sound asleep next to my side of the bed.
Sorry the blogs quit for a while…it was a huge wall to climb, and took a lot for me to admit how I am feeling. I love Ryan…my love for him is no less than it was when I last got to hold him and kiss him that day. Everyday I fell more and more in love with him, and I now realize that even when he was alive - I would get angry with him, but still love him the same. The same goes for this. I am angry at him for abandoning me at the lowest point in my life financially, as far as my confidence goes, and for building a future with him, throwing away my past and having no back up plan.
I love you Ryan…but today - I think you are a meany.