It’s not just that you’re gone
So completely withdrawn
Turned off and moved on
It’s not just that it’s done
That its course has been run
And my presence you shun
It’s not just that this hole
Almost swallows me whole
Pain consuming my soul
It’s not just that I’ve died
And want only to hide
In the tears I have cried
All these things and much more
Rendered lost and unsure
I battle to endure
Since you’ve been gone, today has been one of the hardest so far.
Work delivered one of those days when everything went wrong. The database fell over, people were not where they should have been, no one seemed to have the wit to understand how to do their job, and I was left trying to stick all the renegade parts together and make some sense of it all. I didn’t enjoy it.
As you knew, there are lots of days like today. But today won the trophy for being the worst of the worst. It made me want to walk out and not go back. But did I do that? No. I stuck that ‘fake it til you make it’ smile on my face and just got on with it.
I remember how we always took comfort in not having to pretend with each other. No matter how we had to appear for the sake of others, we could tell it like it is and know that we would not be judged. There would always be support and that ‘I’ve got your back’ scenario that got us both through the crappiest times.
And now. I have no one to tell.
Today. In the middle of the busiest day, surrounded by people – I was lonely.
I can’t start pretending to you now. Even though you’re not here anymore. I can’t start pretending to you now. Even though you’re not there to listen. I can’t start pretending to you now. Even though the silence that returns to me is as painful as it is deafening. I can’t start pretending to you now.
Stay gold.
Since you’ve been gone, there have been a lot of empty hours.
It’s funny how a person can be busy – have lots to think about and be occupied by – but still have time to spend every minute of every day feeling lonely and lost. It’s like a massive contradiction, an oxymoron of epic proportions. And if you ask me, it’s kinda unfair. There should be some kind of respite, right? There should be something to do, or somewhere to go, that will mean the pain will stop for a while. But there’s just nowhere to hide.
I miss you with everything that makes me the person I am. The good person and the bad person. I miss you with every beat of my heart and every breath that I take. I miss you in my private moments, and in the midst of my public life. One day, perhaps in a hundred years or so, I’ll stop missing you. But in the meantime…
My feelings are broken
And it hurts
Just like I always knew it would
The shards are in splinters in a place just out of reach
So that I can’t pick them up
And nurse them back to health
They just lay there
Taunting me with their jagged edges
And jaded misery
My feelings are broken
And it hurts
Just like I always knew it would
And each breath that I take is like glass mixed with pins in my throat
So that living is painful
And each step a mountain
Hard to master
Making the oxygen harder to come by
A waking misery
My feelings are broken
And it hurts
Just like I always knew it would
There’s a huge leaden weight inside my chest that pulls me down
Laying burden upon burden
Keeping me pinned under
Stifling all hope
Reminding me that the fault is all mine
A constant misery
Since you’ve been gone, today has been so empty.
Everywhere I look, I expect to see her, curled up in the corner, or sitting with her ears pricked up as she watches the squirrels in the garden. No more do I have to step over her as I go to draw the curtains, or have to ignore her pleading eyes as she watches me eat.
I didn’t have to go out in the rain today, or undertake the wet dog challenge upon returning home. I didn’t see her lopsided smile, tongue lolling out of her mouth, as she bounds in from the garden and gallops, literally horse-like, to the kitchen for a long drink.
A submissive underbelly was not presented to me for stroking. Nor was there a persistent nuzzle against my hand, requesting – no, demanding – to be loved.
There’s no comforting figure asleep on the floor beside my bed, and the gentle sound of her dog tag tinkling against her collar as she shakes herself – that’s gone too.
I can’t stop thinking about where she is and what she’s doing, and can only hope that she doesn’t feel as desolate as me. I hope she finds a wonderful owner soon. One who deserves her. Not me. Not a failure.
None of these feelings are new to me. This is just another loss adjustment that I will have to make. One day something is there, something I love and in which I find much pleasure and fulfilment. And the next, it is gone. Perhaps there is a lesson in all of this. A truth that I must learn. But for now, all I know for certain is that I miss, with a great, deep, yearning ache, how it used to be, and I mourn for what once was.
