(no subject)
Things have been better, for the most part. Some days are better than others.
There are days where "it" just strikes me out of nowhere. It's coming right up on a year that Lewis has been gone, and there are times... lots of times when it just seems so unreal. It's all a bad dream.
Did this really happen to me?
Yes, it really happened.
His clothes that I'm not going to keep are gone. DVD's, Blu-ray's, and video games I'll never watch or play are gone. The books I have no interest in have been given away.
There are things I will never part with, though.
*Voice mail messages telling me he loves me. Well, any voice mail messages. There are a few messages that include things he didn't want me to forget to buy the next time I was at Target. These messages mean just as much as anything.
*A few of his favorite shirts. The winter coat he had in New York City when he died. One of his cloth hankies is still in the pocket.
*The new Armistead Maupin book I got him for Valentine's Day that he was only halfway through. My Valentine card was the bookmark.
*His glasses.
Speaking of glasses, we had both been to the eye doctor about a month before he died. We went together. I got two new pairs of glasses and Lewis ordered new contacts. Lewis went first and I went second. Lewis picked out one of my new pairs, Ray Bans that I love. (I picked them up when he was in New York City, a few days before he died. He only got to see them on me in a picture I had texted to him.)
When we were there, I filled out a postcard that the optometrist sends you in a year when you need to come back for a check-up. "Kevin Kelly & Lewis Tice" in my handwriting... it arrived in our mailbox this past week. It was about a year ago I had to call and tell them Lewis wouldn't be picking up his new contacts. The girls who work in the office sent a nice card and note, telling me how sorry they were.
When does it end? When will it all be better? Ever?
This is what I've learned:
You don't ever "get over it."
You don't ever "move on."
Lewis will always be a part of me. People that suggest "you need to move on" would never say that if they had been through anything like this. That comment is not helpful at all, it's insensitive. Yes, a few people have said this to me.
You learn to adapt, and it doesn't happen overnight.
There are days where "it" just strikes me out of nowhere. It's coming right up on a year that Lewis has been gone, and there are times... lots of times when it just seems so unreal. It's all a bad dream.
Did this really happen to me?
Yes, it really happened.
His clothes that I'm not going to keep are gone. DVD's, Blu-ray's, and video games I'll never watch or play are gone. The books I have no interest in have been given away.
There are things I will never part with, though.
*Voice mail messages telling me he loves me. Well, any voice mail messages. There are a few messages that include things he didn't want me to forget to buy the next time I was at Target. These messages mean just as much as anything.
*A few of his favorite shirts. The winter coat he had in New York City when he died. One of his cloth hankies is still in the pocket.
*The new Armistead Maupin book I got him for Valentine's Day that he was only halfway through. My Valentine card was the bookmark.
*His glasses.
Speaking of glasses, we had both been to the eye doctor about a month before he died. We went together. I got two new pairs of glasses and Lewis ordered new contacts. Lewis went first and I went second. Lewis picked out one of my new pairs, Ray Bans that I love. (I picked them up when he was in New York City, a few days before he died. He only got to see them on me in a picture I had texted to him.)
When we were there, I filled out a postcard that the optometrist sends you in a year when you need to come back for a check-up. "Kevin Kelly & Lewis Tice" in my handwriting... it arrived in our mailbox this past week. It was about a year ago I had to call and tell them Lewis wouldn't be picking up his new contacts. The girls who work in the office sent a nice card and note, telling me how sorry they were.
When does it end? When will it all be better? Ever?
This is what I've learned:
You don't ever "get over it."
You don't ever "move on."
Lewis will always be a part of me. People that suggest "you need to move on" would never say that if they had been through anything like this. That comment is not helpful at all, it's insensitive. Yes, a few people have said this to me.
You learn to adapt, and it doesn't happen overnight.