My shrink said. After the shock, then the grief. Four and a half months.
It's a beautiful and balmy summer night; frogs sing, stars glitter. I love to sit on the patio and stare at the deep universe. I love it, and that makes me so very sad.
For all the camping trips we will never take again in our little desert-wind- proof tent, me and you and the StinkyLu. We all barely fit, but that tent had armor. Every time one of us had to pee, we'd shift, rearrange, trade places, laugh. StinkyLu jumped out with you, the coyotes cried, she jumped into the side of the tent like it would open automatically, not understanding the zippered tent door.
I keep finding things, this anniversary card: "You asked me if this day meant anything to me. Well it was the most special day of my life so far. Certainly the best thing I've done for sure. Love, John."
Two sober alcoholics, trying to play at normal life and make up for wasted time. That stupid house you wanted so badly for our dogs and some foster kids. And maybe it destroyed us. I think our particular wounds were volatile. Maybe we could have worked them out. I know we wanted to.
No more emails. No more phone calls. Never to hear from you or see you again. I stare into the night sky as if you will appear. Help me, help me, I say to you during the days, & wake up thinking of you, and go to bed thinking of you, and think of you throughout the day. When I asked you to appear, the red tailed hawks started coming, and when I called you, there was one sitting on the steeple outside the AA meeting, like it was you and you were there with me. It's okay, you said, I'm here, I'll help you.
They'll trick me out of the pension because I can't handle it alone and no one to help me. But all I want, the RV, like we dreamed, a place I can keep our Stinky. Not much, I never cared about material things; I'm rootless and homeless. I just want it small and simple. If only we'd kept it that way.
Ghost towns. We loved ghost towns. And I see ghosts everywhere. My camera, sitting on the shelf, turned itself on after midnight then turned itself off again. Of course that's you. I hide my tears because no one understands, really. No one to talk to about it. So I talk to you.
Sometimes I connect all the dots of my disjointed life, like a child's coloring book, sometimes it makes sense. I read it all like a sign & sometimes I'm floating in that world on the other side of the glass wall, and it all makes sense. I feel the energy pulsating, the spiritual realm behind the veil. Those times I believe in my visions and premonitions. And then, I'm all alone and it's just another hot hot summer day at the park and the glare is too bright, and life makes no sense at all. And it seems like just too much.
I miss you I miss you I miss you & I'll never get over it. Life's too short and too damn long as well. What will I ever do? At least I got to love you. You said I was the one who left, but as it turned out, It Was You.
