I have been dealing with the suicide of the man I loved to the ends of the earth. He is gone. I have played the days leading up to his death over and over in my mind. A million little chats and conversations that we shared every day. I never left his presence without telling him that I loved him. I loved, I love him so passionately that it’s hard to imagine that I will ever love anyone or anything in that manner again. My heart is so torn; shredded into pieces that I have few brief glimpses of joy.
He was unbelievably talented and mutable but we matched like my Towle sterling . We would talk for hours or say nothing at all and still each of us able to communicate fully with the other. I was practical and he was sensitive; everything stuck, on the wind and back again. So many gifts he had (Julliard-trained musician). I can hear him breathe on his last recordings and waves of tears flow.
I wake up at home and almost forget that he is gone especially in the dark until I reach for him; he is not there. I would always get up at 4:00AM; to meditate, pray; make coffee and head off to work but stop to watch him sleep; a silly smile on his face as he slept silently and so beautifully. My heart full of passion for this wonderful human being. I would often fall asleep listening to him practice a piece or compose at the piano; always changing the phrasing until it was just perfect. I can’t sleep well now unless I work myself into exhaustion.
I can’t understand why with the gifts from God that he possessed, could he end his life (and mine too). I missed the pain or he hid it very well from me. Most days especially now, I want to just stop feeling anything at all because I can’t seem to fix this. It seems like nothing is ever going to be right until I find a place for this grief and I am just not there. I pray to understand something, anything. I am still walking on broken glass.