I’m so proud of myself today. Because I’m doing a good job living without you. Even though at first I didn’t think I could do it. I didn’t see a way that I could make it without you.
It was funny how that happened. I never knew I would miss you so much until you were gone. Because I knew you’d leave eventually, we were clear on that. And I really tend to be a realistic and practical person. I thought I had my feelings under control.
But oh, was I blindsided terribly… when you left, and I was in so much pain.
It wasn’t even that the circumstances were any worse than I imagined. If anything, they were more gentle than what I’d envisioned.
No, my brain lied to me about how I would feel. Or at least it disagreed internally. The rational part, the forebrain, was convinced I could plan pain like an appointment. That I could pencil in a start and end time. An agenda. An intensity.
But my midbrain… the emotional bits… oh, dear… it had a different plan. And it was in charge, even though the frontal lobe was the one who did all the talking and was clutching its feeble little day planner with all its might.
You see, I had so much grief when I lost you. I did. Ours was a very unconventional relationship — we’d go a long time without talking, but when we did, there was always a deep understanding. Because parts of you are in me and always will be. I’ll always be you, while also being me.
You were my hero. And I don’t think I really understood how proud you were of me in return, until you were gone. Until it was too late for you to tell me anything, except in hindsight.
Anyway, I lived. And I’m living now. And I’m so proud of myself today for how well I’m doing without you, how good I am at being me and being happy to be me while still being you a tiny bit.