It’s Your Birthday.

I’m writing this a day early.

You see, tomorrow is your birthday.  But it’s also date night. And while it’s your birthday, you’re DEAD and I have date night with my LIVING fiance.

I had to think this morning. I had to count the number of years you’d been gone vs how old you were when you died in order to remember that this would have been your 54th birthday.

It’s not that I don’t miss you – I miss you with every fibre of my being. It makes me cry when I stop and think about it.  I keep myself so busy that I don’t have time to stop and think a lot of the time.  I don’t want to miss you that much when I’m snuggled up to him. I don’t want to be laying in bed with him and wishing it were you.

I don’t want to be sad about you and have him make jokes to cheer me up when I just want to miss you.

I need those things to be somewhat separate. I need to miss you when I miss you and love him when I love him. They do intersect – he’s freaking amazing when it comes to my grief over you.

But there’s a shame, a guilt about missing you when I’m so happy with him. I don’t want to make him feel bad for not being you – but I don’t want him to be you – I want him to be him.

But it’s YOUR birthday tomorrow.  My 5th without you. My 6th without you at home. Actually my 7th without you at home – you were with Wade on your 48th, remember? You spent that birthday with Wade, the next birthday in the hospital and then you were gone.

Happy Birthday my Forever 49 Love.  You are missed. You are loved. You are always remembered.

 

I Don’t Remember

I don’t remember the feel of his skin.

I don’t remember the way my arm rested across his chest.

I don’t remember the way he held me close.

I don’t remember the way he felt next to me.

I don’t remember the hardness of his penis.

I don’t remember how it felt to have him enter me.

I don’t remember.

The tactile memories are gone.

I don’t remember how it felt to hug him.

The only thing I remember is how it felt to kiss him and I don’t want to lose that as well.

I’m almost 5 years out.  It’s been 5 1/2 years since I last held him outside of the hospital.

And I don’t remember what it felt like.

January 2010 036