My dream of moving to Japan grew slowly. When it finally materialized, it was such a distant hope that I didn't really even dare assume its reality. Now, the time is upon us, and I have to leave behind this town and these memories and that body I put into the ground.
I guess you could say I'm having a hard time with that.
I am not second guessing myself, and I'm not backing out of my plans for the future. I'm just finding it more painful than I expected to walk away from the past.
2010 was the first year I did not set aside the anniversary of that fateful day in May when I learned what happens when life comes to a grinding halt. I made plans, and I intentionally went about my day like it was any other. Granted, by the time it was over, I was laying on a table in a doctor's office, moaning about back pain and begging for prescriptions. But I decided it would be best if I celebrated him by letting this one thing go, and I guess it didn't turn out that well. Not that my back pain and my memories are completely related.
Another thing I promised myself after Lonewolf died was to always remember this: I am still alive. As painful as that may seem at any given time, I refused to allow myself to wallow in that sadness. Because the pain and sadness of believing you will be better soon, checking into the hospital with hope, then dying suddenly, gasping for air...that pain certainly far exceeded anything I have yet felt. His pain was worse. His dying was worst. I just have to keep going.
I bring all this up now because, seven years later, it can still hit me like a ton of bricks. I go longer stretches without the crippling sadness, but when it reappears, it feels almost like it did that first night. Almost, but (honestly) not quite.
And now I'm leaving. I'm packing up, and moving away, and I'm leaving him behind. I still have his letters and his things; I still have my tattoos and my pictures. But I'm leaving him behind, and I'm finding it hard to forgive myself for that.
I'll let go. I'll walk through the cemetery and I'll take one more picture of his grave, and then I'll get in the car, and I'll drive away. And I suppose that if that doesn't kill me, then I don't know what will.
