Leaving
I misjudged one small thing when I decided to move out of my condo and into an apartment. I forgot how hard it was going to be to leave here. It's amazing to me. It took me a year and a half after moving in to unpack the final box. And now a year later, I'm moving out. I'm not sad that I'm leaving the condo itself. It has served its purpose, but it's what I'm leaving behind. It didn't really hit me until tonight how hard it is going to be. I ahve so many memories with Richard here. There is the last time we cooked tacos in the kitchen, and the magnetic poetry he wrote me that was on the fridge. There was the sleeping on the floor in my little nook area, which was supposed to be the dining area. There was the watching TV amongst other things on the couch. There was Richard reading my palm on the floor by the fireplace. There were the long chats on my porch. We slept together in my bedroom. We cried together on the floor of my bathroom. We made out in/on practically every surface in the apartment! LOL. Those were some good times! :-) But I'm leaving it all behind now. I didn't realize how hard it was going to be. He's not going to be a part of the next stage of my life and I hate it. He's not gonna see me fit in those blasted jeans we bought together. He didn't see me in his favorite pair of jeans... of course I fit into those the day after he died. He's not going to witness my leaving Jacksonville and moving on to graduate school in another country.
It's so hard to leave, to think about leaving. I feel like I'm losing him all over again. Bit by bit, the days go by and it gets further and further from the last time I saw him. Why can I remember it so vividly? Why can't he still be here? I swear, I would give anything just to hold him again. To have one last hug, one last kiss. I don't know if I want to ring in a new year knowing that he's not going to be in it. I will have no new memories of Richard in 2006. It's so hard to move on. But yet, it seems to be happening each and every day. There is so much that has happened in the last three months and 15 days that he has not been witness to. I'm being selfish in my grief for him. I know he is better off now than he ever was living. It was so hard for him to live. He had so much pain, and nothing and nobody, myself included, could have taken that away for him. But I miss him, and I can't help but think of myself these days.
Richard was my rock. The one I called when I was losing it in the middle of the night, or freaking out at midnight. He called me too. When one of us was up, the other was down... we balanced each other out. I don't have that balance anymore... I've lost it. Richard understood it all. The pain, the voices, the struggle, the lack of will, the anxiety, things I struggle with on a daily basis, but have learned to hide from the world. Richard always saw through it because we had the same masks. How can I leave all that behind? It's not like I have a choice... the condo is sold; I've gotten rid of most of my stuff. But I don't know how you leave someone you love so much.
I didn't want Christmas to be here, I wanted it finished. But I don't want 2006 to arrive either. Berrin told me this morning that she was transferring over all her phone numbers into her new planner... and she saw Richard's cell. She didn't carry it over, she said. Me? I've got all his numbers still in my cell, got his e-mail addresses in all my e-mail accounts. Heck, I cried when I had to take a picture of him that was on my wall and put it in a box so I could move apartments. I had to literally tell myself that it would not stay in that box forever.
I need to get out of Jacksonville. I can't stand being here anymore. I can't stand my job. I can't believe I compromised myself and everything I believed in for a job that looks good on the resume. I don't know why it took Richard's death for me to see it. There is nothing here for me anymore. I have great friends, Davis, Liz, Berrin, but honestly, they'll be with me no matter where I am. If I still keep in touch with my best friend Suzanne from Ireland, and I've been living here 10 years, then I'll be keeping in touch with these guys. There is nothing left for me here anymore.
I leave for Tucson tomorrow. It's a healing place for me. It's quiet... it rejuvenates me. And it helps to have an aunt and uncle who just lavish attention on me, helping me grow, without inflicting judgment, their views or their needs on me. I love it there. It's almost magical. I'll ring in 2006 with Helen and Robert, call my friends on the East Coast. But not Richard. Not this year. Not ever again.
It's so hard to leave, to think about leaving. I feel like I'm losing him all over again. Bit by bit, the days go by and it gets further and further from the last time I saw him. Why can I remember it so vividly? Why can't he still be here? I swear, I would give anything just to hold him again. To have one last hug, one last kiss. I don't know if I want to ring in a new year knowing that he's not going to be in it. I will have no new memories of Richard in 2006. It's so hard to move on. But yet, it seems to be happening each and every day. There is so much that has happened in the last three months and 15 days that he has not been witness to. I'm being selfish in my grief for him. I know he is better off now than he ever was living. It was so hard for him to live. He had so much pain, and nothing and nobody, myself included, could have taken that away for him. But I miss him, and I can't help but think of myself these days.
Richard was my rock. The one I called when I was losing it in the middle of the night, or freaking out at midnight. He called me too. When one of us was up, the other was down... we balanced each other out. I don't have that balance anymore... I've lost it. Richard understood it all. The pain, the voices, the struggle, the lack of will, the anxiety, things I struggle with on a daily basis, but have learned to hide from the world. Richard always saw through it because we had the same masks. How can I leave all that behind? It's not like I have a choice... the condo is sold; I've gotten rid of most of my stuff. But I don't know how you leave someone you love so much.
I didn't want Christmas to be here, I wanted it finished. But I don't want 2006 to arrive either. Berrin told me this morning that she was transferring over all her phone numbers into her new planner... and she saw Richard's cell. She didn't carry it over, she said. Me? I've got all his numbers still in my cell, got his e-mail addresses in all my e-mail accounts. Heck, I cried when I had to take a picture of him that was on my wall and put it in a box so I could move apartments. I had to literally tell myself that it would not stay in that box forever.
I need to get out of Jacksonville. I can't stand being here anymore. I can't stand my job. I can't believe I compromised myself and everything I believed in for a job that looks good on the resume. I don't know why it took Richard's death for me to see it. There is nothing here for me anymore. I have great friends, Davis, Liz, Berrin, but honestly, they'll be with me no matter where I am. If I still keep in touch with my best friend Suzanne from Ireland, and I've been living here 10 years, then I'll be keeping in touch with these guys. There is nothing left for me here anymore.
I leave for Tucson tomorrow. It's a healing place for me. It's quiet... it rejuvenates me. And it helps to have an aunt and uncle who just lavish attention on me, helping me grow, without inflicting judgment, their views or their needs on me. I love it there. It's almost magical. I'll ring in 2006 with Helen and Robert, call my friends on the East Coast. But not Richard. Not this year. Not ever again.