It's true how you can be in a room filled to the brim with people and still feel utterly alone. I feel like that a lot lately but not any time more than on Halloween night. I went to a wonderful friend's house and there were lots of really wonderful people there but I was painstakingly aware that every single person who came through the door was part of a pair. I think it's because I remember last Halloween a little too vividly. Sean had just gotten released from the hospital a few hours before trick-or-treating time and he insisted on joining us. He was gaunt, he was wearing a borrowed jacket that in better day he would have filled out but now hung loosely in all the wrong places, he looked scared. I remember looking at him and thinking that he already looked like he was so close to death. I was so proud of him that day because he truly exemplified love. He should have been grouchy, who would have blamed him. He should have gone home, gotten in bed and pulled the covers up. But, not my Sean. He was dying of cancer, he was in horrible pain but yet he loved his little boys enough to sacrifice all that to watch them have fun. I don't think Halloween will ever be the same for me.
And so I can say that I survived. I made it through another milestone without him. And whether people held my hand or tried to ignore the tears, it doesn't really matter. Because grief feels to me like I am clawing to survive just one more minute, one more hour, one more day without him.
I just miss his voice. I can't really think too hard about the fact that I won't ever hear it again. The way he used to know exactly the right thing to say at just the right moment. How I didn't have to explain everything to him. How I used to be able to step into his arms, take a deep breath and know deep in my heart that everything was going to be okay. Sean used to look at me a certain way and I just knew that he loved me.
There is somedays when I feel like the weight of the loss of him could only be likened to an elephant sitting on my chest. I literally have to try to catch my breath. And I'm glad that when I don't have any idea what to do next, my only choice can be to take another breath.