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By Jon Date: 2013 Aug 23 Comment on this Work [[2013.08.23.16.37.3787]] |
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It's our anniversary -- right now, I'm thinking back to that day that marks what today is when I asked you to be mine and against all reason you said yes. I wasn't a different person back then. However you were but I guess that's a given after a life with me, right? The difference that matters is that we had everything in front of us and nothing behind us. I added so much pain and so did you -- but it was always in reaction or a response to what I was doing. I know that you would tell me to not take all the blame for why we never did some of the things we said we would or kept some of the promises we swore to keep, but you're gone and all I'm left with is our past. A past that might have been told differently today if I wasn't who I was and who I am. For better or worse, I'm still that person when it comes to being in a relationship. I do have regrets about us, but I can't imagine another person I would ever want those regrets to be about. Sometimes when I allow my mind to come up with useless scenarios and hypothetical situations I wonder: what if I could speak to us in the past -- what would I tell that young couple? Am I the kind of person that would want to change things? Or am I the kind of person that would just say, "Enjoy it." and let our life play out exactly the way it has even if it meant watching you die again? I'm not sure, it's one of those situations I can't be sure of what I would do until I'm in it - and I never will be, so what's the point really? I do know that if I could visit us in the past that I might not want to leave. What we had was oftentimes beautiful and more painful then I should of allowed it to be, but it was ours and even if it lead to you dying I am thankful to have lived through those years with you. I am glad that I grieved you the way that I did. It is what you deserved. It's been hard for me to not feel like I'm living in some version of a reality that was never supposed to occur - as if I'm part of a timeline that has gone horribly wrong. It should of been me and not you. No, that isn't survivors guilt it's just the truth because I don't wish that it was me that died instead of you -- I just know it should of been. You are probably and provably a better person than I am, but I know for certain you are fundamentally a better parent and certainly more emotionally equipped than I can ever be. I love our son more than anything -- more than I love you. Still, he should have you and not me if he were given that unfortunate choice. He loved you more (no not differently -- more) and seeing the pain and loss that I cannot replace in his eyes is something I can barely stand. Maybe one day when he's older this will all make sense as to why I'm here for him and you are not. Or maybe not, I don't believe I'm entitled to an answer anyway. Most likely there probably isn't an answer nor a reason -- at the very least; not a good enough one anyway. Although there doesn't have to be one for me to love our son twice as much and try to be twice the father I was since you died. It's a sweeping declaration I may never live up to, but I am going to try. Not for you - not for him - not for me; it's just one of those things where it should just be something I'm trying to do anyway for a little boy who misses his mother. I love you - I always did - I always will. Loving you was and always will be easy -- it's missing you that is breaking me. I'm sending this out to wherever you may be right now, either in an existence and form that I can't understand and feel or in the peaceful void of not existing anymore: happy anniversary baby. I'll be spending tonight outside on a lawn chair looking up at the night sky. Just for tonight and just for you baby I'll allow myself to look through the stars instead of just at them, because tonight I belong to you. You are my favorite and most precious scar. You always will be. |