Letters to Chris. August 31st. Day 139

Hey Buddy,

I wasn’t planning on writing tonight…it’s late and I haven’t even eaten dinner yet. But Clay isn’t here, so of course my mind is wandering. I hate when it does this. Part of me needs to cry over you…another part of me is so d*mn tired of the tears. It’s exhausting to cry. I always feel it the next day. Like I had a super hard workout and pushed my body beyond what I should have. I literally drag the following day. It came out of nowhere, like most of the time. This time I was just in the shower when it hit. And then when I was trying to edit engagement photos. It’s like the grief is there just waiting to pounce when I don’t have anything to occupy my mind. It makes being still very difficult.

But the good news is I’m starting to look like myself again. My face has cleared up. My hair has finally stopped falling out (thanks grief, for making everyone going through quite enough ugly as a bonus). I got a  new job that I absolutely love, and a ton of trips coming up (Dallas, Vegas, Seattle and HOME). Fall is almost here, and you know how your big sister is a basic bitch who loves all things pumpkin.

Life is good. For the most part.

And then nights like tonight happen. Where all I want to do cry and call you to console me. You’re still on my speed dial. Where you’ll remain. Sometimes I just want to call that number, but I’m sure someone else has it now. I wonder if they get texts and calls from people looking for you. For a while after you died I would just text you, because that’s what I had to do to get through the day sometimes. Now I just make due with this and posting on your Facebook.

GOD it sucks. I’m still mad at you, you know. You should be here to read my Facebook posts and take my calls. Asshole.

I talked to someone the other day from the AFSP. Another survivor. They put you in touch with someone local who has also lost someone. Her name was Lena, and for an hour she listened to me ramble on and on about you. About your depression, your fears and your heartbreaking texts. But also about how you were such a goofball, and loved to play dress up and with legos as a little boy. About how big of a heart you had, how much you loved your son, how you accomplished your childhood dreams of becoming a soldier and firefighter. And about all the signs you’ve given us that you are still around. We stayed on that subject for quite a while. Her sister has sent her so many signs over the years (she passed in 2012). I had goosebumps for that entire conversation, because it solidifies our experiences with you. All the things we’ve had happen we can’t explain, she had also seen. That’s pretty damn incredible, right?

Oh! Katrina booked her flight-she’s coming here! She’ll be walking with Clay and me in the Out of the Darkness walk next month. I’m so excited to show her all around. It’ll be exactly what my heart needs. And then I’m going to need to plan a trip to Minnesota. I need to see where you worked, where you liked to eat out…where you lived and died. I need to. But I just can’t yet. I can’t face that apartment. Not yet. The thought of it makes me panic. But one day. She gave me a tour of her apartment on her phone. It was so cute. She panned through her kitchen and I could see where you were standing in the picture I posted above. Apparently you had asked her to take that photo while you were cooking breakfast. It makes me happy, seeing you so relaxed. Cooking eggs, drinking a Coke. Such a goofball.

Anyway, I need to eat. It’s almost 10 and this girl is getting hangry. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Jenn

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s