Saturday, August 6, 2011


I took a stroll through the cemetery today.  Normally, I spend all of my time there with TJ.  Today felt different.  I'd been in bed until 3pm.  I couldn't get up.  I was awake, but I couldn't move.  I laid there in my bed, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time.  I decided I was hungry, and if I was going to get up to eat I may as well take a shower.  Looking out the window was enticing.  The sun was shining brightly.  The clouds floating by in the breeze.  It was a lovely day for a walk.  When I need quiet, when I need to get away, I go to him.  It's so peaceful there.  The cemetery borders a busy industrial street in the old section of town.  But it's high stone wall keeps out the noise.  So many times I visit inside those walls.  Every time I stay by his side.  But today, I wanted to meet his neighbors.  Respect them.  Notice them.  So many who died in the 1800's.  I wondered how long it had been since someone who loved them stood over their grave.  When everyone you know is dead and gone and no one comes to visit you.  It's terribly depressing.  I can't imagine a time when no one will visit TJ anymore.  He'll just be another name on a worn out, barely legible headstone in St John's Cemetery.  I kept looking at the dates.  I don't know why.  At first the years mostly, out of historical curiosity.  But then I focused on the actual dates of their death.  The day of the month.  I wanted to see if anyone shared that day with TJ.  I didn't find any.  There were several I couldn't read any longer.  So old that the etching into stone was so shallow and obscured that no one alive today could know who they were.  Those stones made me the saddest of all.  To think that there will come a time when no one will be around to cry for him any longer.  I can't stand the thought.  I feel desperate to be sure he is not forgotten.

After my walk over the grounds, I ended at my love.  I laid down on my left side facing him.  I reached out and put my right hand on top of his grave, where his chest would be if he were above and not below.  I ran my hands through the dry prickly grass trying to grow on the dirt laid over him.  I cried and I cried.  I shook with tears.  At one point, I shifted so that I was lying on top of the grave site so that my tears would fall over him.  As if they could help nourish the parched ground and help the grass to grow healthy.  I talked with him.  Told him how this would be how we would lay in bed together if he were still here.  I told him that he should still be here and that I didn't understand why he couldn't be.  I practically demanded that he feel the love pouring out of me still for him.  He just has to feel it.  He just has to.  There is so much for him.  It will never end.  He's just got to feel it.  I have to know that all of my love for him is reaching him in some way.  It has always been a personal mission of mine to show TJ how much I love him, and take good care of him as his wife.  The only thing I can think to do now to take care of him is to remember him.  To spend time with him at the cemetery.  It's the only way I know how to watch over him like I did for all of those years we shared together.  It's the only way I know how to serve him; to give him the attention that I need to give him.  I feel useless now.  Everything I had I gave to him.  I have lost my purpose. 

I will never have a normal life.  The life that I wanted.  To build a home with TJ, to grow our family together, to savor every minute of our lifelong partnership.  It's all gone.  It'll never happen for me.  Not the way that I want it to.  It's just not fair.  We deserved to be happy.  He deserved to live.  He deserved to see the sparkle in our child's eye.  It will never be.  Ever.  I think so much about all of the things he'll miss.  Already, in just 5 months, there is so much he has missed.  And there is a lifetime more that he won't experience. And a lifetime more that I won't experience with him in it.

It's tragic, really.  Just tragic.

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