Jean. I miss you tonight. It has been such a very long last few days. So much processing. So much work. I miss you. I hurt.
The garage is empty. Mostly anyway. Some gardening tools. Our dining table. You have finally moved out. We have finally moved out. Clearview is empty. We are there no longer. You are there...no longer.
So many things.
I finally got your text on Saturday night. It shook me. It shook me quite a bit. Jean. Why? How? I know. I know and I understand, but I don't. I can't. I miss you so. There are so many conversations I wish we could have over. I wish I could hear differently. You were trying to tell me. You were trying to tell me that you loved me. That you were leaving. You were letting me go. You were letting everything go.
Jeannie. I am not the same. I could never be the same. I would never want to be. When you stepped off, the way you did. My universe dismantled. The world exploded in a blast of 1,000 suns. You blew through me, and away. Into space. 1 million stars. And you. Nothing else can compare. Nothing ever could. Even before, Jean. Nothing ever could.
So now it's done. Our life together. Your life prior. It's gone, Jean. All of it. Most of it. I've kept some things. But so little when compared to all that we had. The possessions any way. The stuff. It's just stuff. I have you. Your memory. Our time shared. It's a mixed bag Jean. You know it. We had our times. We were passionate about each other. Good and bad. It got completely fucked Jean. So, so badly. You are in me. My DNA. Your impact is there Jean. I will never be the same.
I got your text. Finally. Over a year ago. I imagine you wrote it in the car. After you had texted me "Hey" and gotten no response. After you had texted Sonia an apology for "everything", asking her "to take care of her". Did you mean me, Jean? I always thought you did. But I still don't know why you would ask that of Sonia. It doesn't matter.
I got your text on Saturday night. Suzy had charged up your phone with the rest of the electronics. We had gone through your pictures together. She checked your email. She checked your voicemail. There were a few I hadn't listened to. A couple were from Judith, the mediator, asking where you were, expressing concern. And then there was one from me. I asked you where you were. I said it wasn't like you to just not show up to our appointment. I said I was concerned. I asked you to call me. - Jeannie, you were already gone.
I wanted to go through it one more time before we wiped the drive. There was a text from me to you. November 1. 9:30 a.m., "Where are you?". Jean. On the iPhone, your iPhone, I could see what I had written. The preview. It was unopened. You never received my text. You were already gone. I had never opened it. I didn't want to. I didn't want to see that unanswered question hanging in the conversation. Never to be answered.
I was clearing everything out. I was going to let your phone go. That thing that never left your side. That was such a part of you. I was going to wipe the drive and let it go. Just like everything else. It was my last time, my last text to you. The text you never received. I opened it. There, on your phone, in the composition bubble, was your message. You wrote to me. Jean. Even there. Oh god Jean. It overwhelms me. How could you tell me you loved me? You were so kind. So sweet. So simple. Jean. No pain. No recrimination or regret. You just wanted me to know you loved me. You would always stand by my side. - You will always stand by my side. Jean. It is a lot to hold. I am so humbled and overwhelmed. I miss you so. I am sorry that you chose to go. I understand. But I do not. Jean. You. Were. Spectacular. You still are.
Everything else pales. Moving. Moving. Moving. Starting over. Letting go. Letting go. Starting over. Letting go. It means so little. It means so little compared to losing you. And I don't mean my personal loss. I know the weight of that Jean. I was ready to let you go.
I was certain. We had our time.
I mean that we lost you. When you stepped off this earth we all lost. And I miss you Jean. I miss you with every cell of my being. I will never be the same. I wouldn't want to be.
***
I'm confused. I'm tired. I'm tired of hurting. The relief is in letting go. But that too is a process. Truly let go and there is no suffering. But I am not the Buddha. I hurt. I bleed. I am doing not doing, not being reactive. I am being still and listening. I am moving forward. But...there is so much loss. I am growing. I am becoming more of my true self. But, there is so much loss. How do I not grieve these things? People I loved, who no longer make sense in my life? It hurts to grieve, but how do I not?
The garage is empty. Mostly anyway. Some gardening tools. Our dining table. You have finally moved out. We have finally moved out. Clearview is empty. We are there no longer. You are there...no longer.
So many things.
I finally got your text on Saturday night. It shook me. It shook me quite a bit. Jean. Why? How? I know. I know and I understand, but I don't. I can't. I miss you so. There are so many conversations I wish we could have over. I wish I could hear differently. You were trying to tell me. You were trying to tell me that you loved me. That you were leaving. You were letting me go. You were letting everything go.
Jeannie. I am not the same. I could never be the same. I would never want to be. When you stepped off, the way you did. My universe dismantled. The world exploded in a blast of 1,000 suns. You blew through me, and away. Into space. 1 million stars. And you. Nothing else can compare. Nothing ever could. Even before, Jean. Nothing ever could.
So now it's done. Our life together. Your life prior. It's gone, Jean. All of it. Most of it. I've kept some things. But so little when compared to all that we had. The possessions any way. The stuff. It's just stuff. I have you. Your memory. Our time shared. It's a mixed bag Jean. You know it. We had our times. We were passionate about each other. Good and bad. It got completely fucked Jean. So, so badly. You are in me. My DNA. Your impact is there Jean. I will never be the same.
I got your text. Finally. Over a year ago. I imagine you wrote it in the car. After you had texted me "Hey" and gotten no response. After you had texted Sonia an apology for "everything", asking her "to take care of her". Did you mean me, Jean? I always thought you did. But I still don't know why you would ask that of Sonia. It doesn't matter.
I got your text on Saturday night. Suzy had charged up your phone with the rest of the electronics. We had gone through your pictures together. She checked your email. She checked your voicemail. There were a few I hadn't listened to. A couple were from Judith, the mediator, asking where you were, expressing concern. And then there was one from me. I asked you where you were. I said it wasn't like you to just not show up to our appointment. I said I was concerned. I asked you to call me. - Jeannie, you were already gone.
I wanted to go through it one more time before we wiped the drive. There was a text from me to you. November 1. 9:30 a.m., "Where are you?". Jean. On the iPhone, your iPhone, I could see what I had written. The preview. It was unopened. You never received my text. You were already gone. I had never opened it. I didn't want to. I didn't want to see that unanswered question hanging in the conversation. Never to be answered.
I was clearing everything out. I was going to let your phone go. That thing that never left your side. That was such a part of you. I was going to wipe the drive and let it go. Just like everything else. It was my last time, my last text to you. The text you never received. I opened it. There, on your phone, in the composition bubble, was your message. You wrote to me. Jean. Even there. Oh god Jean. It overwhelms me. How could you tell me you loved me? You were so kind. So sweet. So simple. Jean. No pain. No recrimination or regret. You just wanted me to know you loved me. You would always stand by my side. - You will always stand by my side. Jean. It is a lot to hold. I am so humbled and overwhelmed. I miss you so. I am sorry that you chose to go. I understand. But I do not. Jean. You. Were. Spectacular. You still are.
Everything else pales. Moving. Moving. Moving. Starting over. Letting go. Letting go. Starting over. Letting go. It means so little. It means so little compared to losing you. And I don't mean my personal loss. I know the weight of that Jean. I was ready to let you go.
I was certain. We had our time.
I mean that we lost you. When you stepped off this earth we all lost. And I miss you Jean. I miss you with every cell of my being. I will never be the same. I wouldn't want to be.
***
I'm confused. I'm tired. I'm tired of hurting. The relief is in letting go. But that too is a process. Truly let go and there is no suffering. But I am not the Buddha. I hurt. I bleed. I am doing not doing, not being reactive. I am being still and listening. I am moving forward. But...there is so much loss. I am growing. I am becoming more of my true self. But, there is so much loss. How do I not grieve these things? People I loved, who no longer make sense in my life? It hurts to grieve, but how do I not?
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