So, I didn't go looking for it. That's the important part, right?
I am looking for my syllabuses for my graduate classes. I need them for my application for my chemical dependency certification. I have two large bins that hold my business papers at the moment. I haven't looked at them for a long, long time. Probably before I moved here three years ago. I block a lot of those memories out, yanno?
I came across a printed email exchange between me and The Dead Guy, shortly after we met. He must have sent me flowers. And I remember those flowers. How beautiful they were. All daisies and wildflowers. I don't like roses and all those contrived fauna. Just wild things. And that's what it was. I wish I could find a picture of it for you, but that bouquet was perfect. So perfect.
Anyway. Here were some sappy emails. I laughed. I SO laughed. They were so gooey and lovey. I am SO not that girl today, they made me giggle. And I put them back in the folder they came from and kept looking. I NEED these papers, right? Then I found cards. The ones where he told me I was his soulmate. The ones where he said he never thought he'd meet a woman like me. The ones where he adamantly confessed that we were meant to be together forever.
And it made my face turn hot. It made my skin crawl. It made me tear up, but not cry. I'm not sure I'm capable of crying over it anymore. But I was not prepared for it. Not one bit. I used to go looking for the pain. I used to open the picture albums with a glass full of vodka, hoping to make it hurt just that much more so I had an excuse to die.
But I don't have that excuse anymore. I just felt sad. I just felt a bit of panic. Just feel... so very sad. And lonely. And I miss him. One more time, I miss him. It's been long time since I felt this bereft. My friend Brooke told me that nothing happens by mistake. And I want to mis-believe her this time. I was finally feeling happy about the season. I was finally ready to let the past hurts go and enjoy.
And maybe I still can enjoy, but tonight? I feel that punch in the gut and have to put a name on it. And I' m going to call it grief. Because it takes a myriad of forms. And tonight, it mysteriously appeared in a bin of business papers. And I'd like to put the lid back on it and forget that I ever saw it. But I can't. So I go to bed. Grieving once more. Wishing that it will be the last time, and knowing that it won't be.