I have been having a weird thing happen lately. I will be going about my day and suddenly my heart is beating too fast. My breath catches. There is a pounding in my ears and an overwhelming wave of panic hits me. Every time, the same phrase comes into my mind: Where is he?
It doesn't matter, really. He's not here. And suddenly the tears come, the ache settles in my chest and it all hits me, again and again.
Not Here.
NOT. HERE.
I talk about him all the time. With my kids, my family, my friends. I cry and talk about him with my (endlessly patient, amazingly wonderful) boyfriend. With my therapist. With the women in my support group. With complete strangers, who somehow manage to touch upon a subject that brings him to mind.
I talk about him joyfully. I talk about him with awe. I talk about him while my mending heart breaks again, bleeds a little more.
As the one year mark of his death gets closer, I get flashbacks of this time last year. I think of all the things I could have... should have... done differently. I think about all of the moments we stole before he slipped away.
And I still hear it, every time. Where is he?
I suppose that this is where spirituality and faith come into the equation. His physical body is not anywhere, but his soul, or spirit is. I hope some day you find comfort in some sort of spiritual belief that can help you to find peace that Jason is in a better place. I love you Valerie, you are a strong and brave soul, but you don't feel that right now. I pray every night that you find peace and happiness. XO
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