So, for the past 4 hours I've been reading emails from TJ. I logged in to his gmail account and started reading his journals. There are over 500+, but the most recent date on the ones labeled "journals" is 2008. I knew there were more, so I went through every email in his sent folder. All 1240 of them. I started only looking at the ones he sent himself and then moving them to the "journals" folder, but then I started reading the ones we sent back and forth. Always love. Always encouragement. There was even a very fair share of dirty talk. All on my end. Big surprise. There was even constructive criticism, or the "get your shit together" real gritty stuff. But all of them signed off with an "I love you" from each of us. No matter what.
Reading our conversations, the context, the banter; it makes me forget that he's gone. I can hear his voice saying the words I am reading. I can hear the pauses. Hear the inflections. Even imagine the facial expressions that go with the conversation. I miss him so much.
I wonder if he would be proud of me now? All of the things that I vented to him about, all of the things that made me so unhappy were because of my job. I hate that I took out that frustration on him when I got home. So much bullshit. Overworked. Stressed. Pushed to the limit. Emails I'd sent him from my work address at 9pm... I'm so glad that that is over. Loyalty can sometimes be misguided. TJ wanted so much for me. He wanted me to find a job that made me happy. He wanted me to live a fulfilled and satisfying life. He always hoped for the best for me. I have to learn how to do that for myself. It seems so much harder without his loving encouragement and gentle prodding. I found an email that he'd sent me in 2004 with 5 listings of job opportunities. Just the links in bright blue followed by "You are wonderful, and you can do this. You deserve to be happy."
If I wasn't complaining about work, I was professing my undying love for him. Poetically listing every detail of his body that I loved. The way the smell of his skin made me high. The way the weight of his arm across my belly put me at ease; helped me to feel grounded. I told him all the time how much I loved him. I'd always wondered if it was too over the top for him. Overwhelming to him. But now I'm sure I did the right thing. Even though I told him all the time, it was never enough. I'm so glad that I told him every chance that I got.
I didn't know then that I would only have 12 years. 12 years to cram a lifetime of love into. I think I might melt into a puddle of tears right this second. If I were standing in a bucket, it would be filled already. Crying for him is a way of life. Instead of showering him with love, I cry for his memory. Who could have ever, ever imagine this?