I thought if I got rid of Skype on all my devices, I wouldn’t be constantly thinking of him. That stupid blue square with its white “S” should have been easy to ignore and when it wasn’t, it should have helped getting rid of the constant reminder that there was still a way to contact Beck. But I have pieces of him surrounding me 24/7 – memorabilia that used to be comforting to see and touch when we couldn’t be together: things I consciously kept for the very reason of remembering him. Even if I threw it all out in the trash, like Beck did with our things last August, my memories won’t let go as easily. I think of him, what seems like, every minute or two and I tuck away the things that happen in my day (what I saw, did, ate, heard, read, made and other small snatches of time) just so I could share them with him later. I wanted to entertain him and discuss my mundane-to-insane tasks; I wanted to make him smile or reassure him that everything’s going well because it’s always going to be okay in the end.
Yesterday, I would have given up a lot of things just to be lying next to him in bed, facing each other and bantering back and forth or going over things that really matter to one or the other. Caressing his body with light scratches, hoping/knowing he’d understand all the things unspoken where words fail me. I wouldn’t ache so horribly every time music played that we both indulged in and I wouldn’t torture myself with images of him and someone else. I’d keep eating my blueberries, watermelon and strawberries with the happy secret knowledge that I could surprise him with how far I got on my own. I’ve even surprised myself with the ability to cook veggies and the other vegan/organic food from scratch without assistance (because I’m compelled to). Maybe I’d see that sparkle in his eyes and maybe it would be enough for him. Then, we could move on towards repairing our friendship: he was my best friend.
I miss you fiercely. I wish my stubborn strength would be enough to hold us together when we’re both stressed and depressed. I know from last year that this, too, shall pass but I’d really like it if it happened much sooner. My heart feels like it will explode out of my chest or die trying. I’ll always want you and I’ll always love you. How come it’s this difficult to let you go? Why did we think we could work it out on our own when we don’t have the skills to use our rational tools? Would you come with me to a mediator/counselor if I asked? Or would you throw it in my face out of spite/dejection?
If you’re right about us sharing abandonment issues, then it was a self-fulfilling prophecy you made. The fear of being abandoned begets departure first. You view death as departure from this plane and I view death as the next stepping stone when we’ve learned all we need to as preparation for a place humanity can barely fathom. Your need for confirmation belies your fear of your masculinity because how could it not if you were self-assured? I know I never emasculated you – my teasing (especially Pepe who you must admit has not shown himself as often nor for as long periods) stemmed from the same place as the massages and scratches. I wouldn’t try to take advantage of your nature so I don’t know why or how you could mine. I’m most grateful I never showed you how to instantly seduce me or how pulling certain strings would make me do anything you wanted…