I have a new follower and I have visited his blog. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. I could barely read some of his words without feeling the old twist of my gut and have the harsh blur of tears filling my eyes with their salted sorrow. I imagined it was him, his words to me. That I had been followed by a man who meant so much to me and who I walked away from and here he was sending me a message that he knew this was me.
It’s not him, but while I read his words, voraciously consuming them, skipping and skimming to get the message before the content, I pretended that it was. I did not realize how much I miss him, how much I hold his memory just beneath the surface. I can’t move on because I am still holding onto him, blocking any attempt for another to come into my life.
It’s made me realize how hard it must be to move on once someone dies. How you hold onto the memory as your reality and sometimes it becomes an empty and lonely thing because you cling to a past instead of accepting the gifts of your present. I don’t want to be that woman. He meant so much to me, he protected me, forced me through what I could not bare to go through alone. And I remember why we were so good together; how easy it was, how simple.
And now I have stranger’s words impacting me like a physical blow with how much pain it brings to my heart because I miss the simplicity of what we shared. It makes me crave those words to be spoken to me, knowing that I am missed deeply and still loved, even though we both made other choices.