#the mourning process

[slowandsweet]

You don't just lose A person You lose The version of yourself That only existed With them

[remembertheplunge]

My gay partner Jim died November 9, 2009 quickly and unexpectedly from liver failure. We had been together since 1997 and lived together since 1998. That year we bought a house together, the same house Jim later would die in. So, by late January 2010, I was lost and wondering in the above January 31 entry where he was? When the film breaks and a character leaves the story due to death, sometimes the mind and the soul can't comprehend it. You wonder where the person went and when they will return. Clayton's was a restaurant that a neighbor owned and that we had dined at frequently. Clayton's was still there (I included a couple sketches of Clayton's interior above that I had done in my journal). The jail and the court house, where I worked and saw clients as a criminal defense attorney, were still there. Where was Jim?

[spoiledforships]

my current layer of pain is that yeah Bellamy Blake was right but it was luck and shitty writing that got them to their end game.

Bellamy didn’t know Madi would definitively have the answers. Bellamy trusted that Cadogan wouldn’t fry Madi’s brain whether she had the key or not. Bellamy didn’t know Madi would be fried and tortured and “left for dead” (read: brain functional enough yet completely physically paralyzed) but alive and able to transcend.

[themourningprocess]

How it happened.

December 27th I was broken up with. After a month of back and forth, after a month of us trying to make things work... we just couldn’t. We’d stop effectively communicating. She’d get frustrated and lash out. I would pull back into a safe place and not say what was on my mind. Then we’d talk it out... and we’d be okay for about a week... and then it would happen again. 

That morning, something felt off. We talked on the phone for about 7 minutes. She said she wanted to hear my voice even if it was a short call. I called and talk for a bit. She was tired so she couldn’t really respond. When we got off the phone she asked me to “text her lots” so I did. Or attempted to anyway. Every time I prompted conversation it fell flat. When I asked her for conversation she only complimented me, and though nice, it wasn’t what I was looking for. I wanted substance. 

In the passed days, we only really had conversations about sex. Those seemed to be the only ones that lasted longer than 10 minutes. I was starting to feel... connected again, but also distanced. I’m not sure how else to describe that. Like we were going to be physically together again and the walls would come down. I only needed to hold on for 2 weeks. So, I indulged. Sent pictures, sexted, made plans. 

Tuesday after work, what I thought would be a decent conversation on the phone, turned into you breaking up with me. I understand why. I’ll always understand why. The thing that hurt the most was that on Christmas Eve, when she brought this up before she said she was ready for this. That she wanted to continue. So I was ready to give it my all. 

I think that’s where my breakdown happened. I think that... I was ready to make it work. I had resigned myself earlier, and when I was given hope, I held it close to my heart and nurtured it. Then, it was like it was all gone. I’m not blaming you. I’m just realizing where the hurt is coming from within myself. 

[themourningprocess]

Why did I create this?

I want to create this blog, because there is so much healing to be done. There is much to mourn. I feel like I’m going to be able to understand myself better. I’m going to be able to post the pictures here that I need to. I can talk about the sadness I’m experiencing. I can reblog the things that make me feel. Right now I need to mourn and process... I have friends... But this feels more personal and not something they should worry themselves with. 

[deplvmes]

"So... you wanna make out?"

"My cat just died, and that’s your first reaction? Sure, I might’ve hated the little bastard, but have a little more respect and —- and… yeah, yeah, okay, I do.”

[black-birdy]

I hate being home. But I know it's not time to leave yet. Despite the fact that everything hurts and the entire house makes me sick to the point of wanting to scream and vomit and cry, and even though I would rather burn the whole thing to the ground than set foot inside... I have to stay. Its not done with me yet.

[virtualsoapbox-blog]

The mourning process #4

I got a package from my dad's job today. His job made shirts in his honor for the annual charity event. They raised $1,000. I really appreciate it. But now that I think about it, it is almost been a year. Why haven't I been informed about the cause of his death yet? It's like everyone knows, except his ONLY CHILD. I'll never gain any of my happiness back until I know how my dad died. Never.