Some say writing is good. I do not know what to say.

They say that it is good to write.
It is good to write your feelings especially if one cannot express feelings to another. It helps to open the soul, help to heal, remember the good times, and reflect on the bad. I try to write every day, but most days I delete the things that I write, since I know other’s will read and feel the sadness in my heart. The sadness is one of the only things I have and at times I do not want to share the sadness, I want to keep it inside and countdown until I can go home, lay in bed and let out the sadness so no one can hear.

I feel that I must stay strong for the people around me. I want others to see my as strong, that I can take care of myself and that I will survive. They do not need to know the truth of what really is going on in my heart and soul. Sometimes it seems like a battle. Not necessarily of good and evil but of love and guilt. I lay awake at night thinking of everything we had planned to do, how we were going to live and the memories we were going to make. I miss the late night talks with him the most of all. We would go to bed and face each other and talk of the future and what lies ahead for us. We would talk of our jobs, our goals and accomplishments. I miss those talks and I wish I could share with him the accomplishments I had already achieved while we are apart. I know he is here, watching me, but I want him closer. I feel guilty that I am the one who must live out the dreams we carved late at night, I feel guilty that I will be the one to hold our grandchildren, while telling them what a wonderful man and father he was.

I lay awake wishing he was lying next to me. Sometimes I do feel him, laying there and I do not move as not to upset the universe or molecular structure of the presence I feel. I just wish he would say something to help me heal, to help the guilt go away. The guilt of knowing he won’t be here to experience life with me as we planned. The bedtime stories he won’t be able to tell his grandchildren, the stories of his grandmother, and plans to go to Disneyland. Things we were going to experience together, travels we were going to embark on all over the world. I want him to know that I think of him each and every day, and I cry for him, each and every day.

When I would experience something while with him, it would feel like a brand new outlook on life or the experience. I had been to Vegas a few times and had fun, but when Brian took me, I had the time of my life and all of the night lights that I experienced that first night in Vegas with him is one night I will never forget. This feeling I felt was the reason we married in Vegas.

I remember good times each and every day, then a haunting reminder of phones calls and last emails shared brings tears to my eyes. I wipe them away fast, so not to bring others, and go back to thinking of the good thoughts. These past few years have felt so gratifying there are no words to describe our relationship. There were so many turbulent times, yet all was forgotten, while we rediscovered ourselves and fell in love all over again.
The hard work and struggle was so worth it in the end. We loved each other, and our love was stronger like no other. We worked for our relationship each and every day. It was hard, then again, when it comes easy, that’s when you stop trying.

It has been two months since he passed on. I feel like it was yesterday, and I wish I had just one more day to spend with him. I hate the fact that life goes on around me, and I am expected to keep up. Sometimes I fall flat on my face, and that’s when my friends pick me up, dust me off and point me to the correct path. That is all fine and dandy, but I am tired of people pointing me. I want to make my own path and basically run away from everything and never come back. I know how to run away from my problems, I have done it many times in life. I was told I could not do that right now. Soon, but not right now. I am holding on to those words and waiting. I spent time sitting and dwelling over him, crying, thinking and suffering. I also spent time asking all of the questions and not coming up with any answers. If I did have just one more day with him, I could lie and say I would spend it laying there with him, but in reality, that is not what he wanted to do. He was always on the go and never was the type to have a jammie day! I don’t know what he would want to do, but if I do get the chance I will ask him.

His clothes in the closet do not smell like him anymore. At the beginning I would lock myself in my room and wrap myself in his shirts, hoping to never lose the smell of him, in the morning, right before he would wipe his cologne filled hands all over the dogs face. I only have his smell in my memories now. I bought some of his cologne, so I could spray it on a pillow and smell it at night. I haven’t done that for a few days, this does not mean I have accepted it. I smell the inside of his wallet, pick the dead moths and cobwebs out of the way, and laugh at the reminder that all of his money was in his front pocket the day he passed. A weird thing to laugh at, yes I know. Those of you who knew him know what I am taking about.

The hardest part so far was going back to work. We would talk to each other multiple times during the day. I would call him on my way to work, and throughout the day we would talk via phone and email. On the way home we would talk as well. One would think that we would run out of things to talk about, but we loved talking and learned it was very important in a relationship. Driving to work, and not being able to call him, or having my phone at work remain silent throughout the day is the hardest and it really hurts so much. Who am I going to tell all of this stuff too? Well, obviously I haven’t really had much to talk about. I had my 5 year anniversary at work, and an award presented to me. The first person I wanted to call was him, but when I picked up the phone I remembered he wasn’t there to call. Yes, I know he was there but that is really no consolation.

Last night I walked in the basement and turned on the light. The lights did not come on. I turned the switch off and then back on, while looking at both of the lights thinking how crazy it was to have them both go off at the same time. I walked back upstairs and cleaned for a while then going back to the basement I turned the light switch that was upstairs instead of the downstairs, and the lights came on. I was shocked to say the least. I went downstairs and tried that switch and it worked. I am thinking since the basement was Brian’s favorite place to relax and watch tv that he was trying to just pop in and say hello. I asked him to send me a message. When he was alive we would talk about death and how he wasn’t allowed to die before me, because I truly felt that I couldn’t live without him in my life. I told him that he had to haunt me and come and say hello, and I said that I would haunt him all of the time. I wonder all the time now, what is in store for me. I wonder when my clock will stop ticking and when it will be time for me to go. I wonder if I will ever see him again in another life and if he will recognize me when my soul departs from this earth. I hold on to the thought that I will indeed see him again and be a part of his soul once more. Some days this thought is the only thing that gets me out of bed and moving for the day.

I can’t really think of the future right now. Like I said, I feel stagnant while everyone else is pushing forward.