Love & Its Inevitable Ending: Death

Death, Love, Relationships, Uncategorized

wordpress_he died

He knew I could never live in a world where he doesn’t exist. 

I grieved him and us and what we had while he was still alive. I mourned the loss of our life and our love for almost three years. It was difficult but I always knew he was out there somewhere, walking around, laughing, dancing, living. But that’s all changed now.

I started this blog in an attempt to try and write him out of me, to try and write the words I was unable to speak, to tell the stories I could never tell. All in the hopes that one day it can finally be over. That I can finally stop loving him, stop hating him, stop feeling him.

114 posts; more than half about him; the man I loved more than life itself, the man who loved me, hated me and broke me. Gosh, he loved me. Sometimes I knew it, other times I questioned it.

114 posts about love {having love, losing love, thinking I’d found love to actually falling in love again}.

114 posts about heartbreak, pain, sadness, the inevitable healing and moving forward.  and the things I did to forget him. Trying in vane. Always. Because he knew I belonged to him and I knew it too.

114 posts about learning to live without him and they have to end today. They have to end today because he died. The love of my life, the man that changed my world, the man who owned my heart even thought he broke it several times over, he is dead.

His heart stopped beating Friday the third of March 2017 at some ungodly hour in the middle of the night in an area far away from where he and I shared a life, a home. Friday the third of March was when his life ended {taken}. His last breath drawn {taken}. He left. Me.

I have tried to be okay. Even answering the questions “are you okay” with a “yes”. Mostly lies because I’m not. I dream about him every night, he’s banging on my windows screaming my name, screaming for me to help him. But I can’t. I couldn’t. I t wasn’t my job anymore. It was hers. She never did her job.

So I’m stuck with these questions in my head all day. Why was he there, why did he lie to her, why was he without her, why did he leave without his things, why was he in the street, what did he say to them when they approached him, did he scream for help? Did he try and fight back? Did he know he needed help.Why was there no one to help him? Because he never needed it that’s why! He was strong, and fit, he never needed help until that night. And no one was there.

I spoke with him briefly the Thursday, some time between 5 & 5h30pm, we laughed, he quoted Riel Prophets’ song “ChillinLike A Villain”. He loved rap music, hip hop…I never knew that would be last time I heard from him. I replied with a laughing face emoji and the words “I’m glad” …my last words to him was “I’m glad” because I was. He seemed up beat and relaxed. Staying out of trouble. I wanted to believe him. {Believe.} I wanted to. But that was the last time I will ever hear from him. Of him yes, the day I got the news I “heard of him” again. “He’s dead” it said. But not from him. I heard of him. Because he is dead.

We always spoke about who would die first {I always believed I would because cancer runs in our family} and we spoke about who would tell the other about it. I told him I would feel it, the day he no longer breathes, but I didn’t, I felt nothing at all. I woke up that Friday, went to work, wrote my 114th post, mostly about him; again, and went on my merry way. In fact, I still spoke about him that Friday night, I said “I would have done anything to be with him, and I did, I did it for us, and love”

We never thought he would actually die, he was immortal you know {his words}, he was my superman {my words}. The one that protected me and also the one who I ended up needing protection from.

I woke up that Sunday, that’s when I got the news. That’s when I heard of him. I dropped my phone and started shaking. Crying. That was how I knew I would feel. Like my heart is breaking all over again. He knew I could never live in a world where he doesn’t exist. He died anyway.

How did it feel to lose him? Like every goodbye ever said to me, all at once.

114 posts. And this, is my last one.

 

 

 

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