washed away

He’s not here , I’d hoped to find him, feel him at least just a little bit. Find some peace a brief moment of acceptance but it’s not here. I’m searching for something that cannot be found. I thought that maybe if I could get away from home, from all the distractions I could maybe just maybe feel a tiny bit closer to him— instead all I have found are metaphors. Metaphors that keep reminding me just how far apart we really are.

Just as quickly as the surf can wash away writing in the sand, my life was washed away in an instant. I carved Elliott’s name on the beach just above the tide line. I wanted to take a picture as a physical representation that he was on my mind (as always, every second of the day). Just as I had finished crossing the last “T” and dotting the “I” with a heart the tide came in and washed it away before I even had a chance to turn on the camera. I thought “of course, how ironic.” The water erased Elliott from the sand before I was ready—just as the bullet erased him from my life. How can a matter of seconds— a succession of events line up so perfectly that It can fundamentally change my world forever? There are so many questions and no answers. 

I thought I would hike down a trail to a beach near the condo I’m staying at. Maybe I could find him there... The trail was steep and long. On the way down my foot slipped and I fell down and busted my knee. As I sat there staring at the blood I felt numb for a few seconds. Then the sting from the scrapes quickly reminded me that unfortunately I am still alive, still a widow. I thought dammit if only I could have slid a little farther I may have went over the edge and bumped my head on a tree or something. I could have gone home, home to where my husband is. But no, instead I was halfway down a trail to a beach with a bloody knee and a broken heart. I decided to keep going, and eventually made it to the beach. I did a little bit of reading and a lot of crying. The way back up was harder than I expected my knee was killing me and the trail was so steep. I thought this is just like my freaking life. I have to climb this huge hill all beat up and scared, the hill of widowhood, grief, anger, confusion ... Halfway up I stopped, huffing and puffing, short of breath I yelled at Elliott  “WHERE ARE YOU, I NEED YOU NOW, I CAN’T  DO THIS WITHOUT YOU.” I need him more than ever to help me tackle what the world has thrown my way, to help me navigate the giant hills ahead. But he doesn’t answer when I call out to him. I am alone and I’m going to be climbing for a long time, with no end in sight.

I don’t feel that being the one who gets to live is a gift, it feels more like a curse, a life sentence to grief, sadness and loneliness. It feels like torture to be the one left behind, the one who can’t see the other side, the one who can’t hear the other, the one who misses the other with every fiber of their body and soul. I want to live for the both of us but how do you live for two when half of you is missing ? I love you El even if I get mad because I can’t hear you, I know your probably frustrated too. I just want to feel you babe. Please let me feel you soon.