10:42

I've said countless times before that there are moments in life which can clearly define a "before" and "after" state of living. A moment so profound that it alters the course of your future and your perspective of your own past reality.

May 13, 2015 at 10:42am is one of those moments for me. I remember exactly what  my life was like before that moment, in that moment, and since that moment. Instantly, the world around me came to a screeching halt and my life's train derailed from its tracks. When an integral part of your everyday life disappears before your very eyes, it is the most abrupt thing a person can experience. When someone you love becomes nothing more than a memory, you can only react.

Why that moment? Because that moment is when I became aware of the reality in which I would soon be forced to exist. The beginning of a 17-minute phone call. A phone call I had been hoping never to receive, but also in the back of my mind been waiting for. Hearing the words "I'm here with the body of Christian Everett and I have been given specific instructions to contact you with some detailed information" stopped me like a stone. 
Chris was gone, and this time it was forever. There was nothing I could do to intervene. 
This moment in time happens to be exactly 12 hours (to the minute) since I spoke to Chris for the last time. And it happens to be exactly 3 days later (to the specific minute, again) when I arrived to retrieve his belongings, his cremated remains, and the letter he had left for me. This phone call is when I knew that these other moments would forever hold significance.

I've been heartbroken before - more times than I care to admit - by people I loved who ended up being a disappointment, by men I gave my heart to who walked away without a proper goodbye, and by the universe choosing to toss up a roadblock just when things feel like they're finally coming together. But no drifting apart or breaking up compares to the same kind of heartbroken pain and no amount of previous grief can prepare you for the world to turn on end simply by answering a phone call. 

Nothing can prepare a person for losing someone because they chose death over life. Because their struggles were too much for them to handle; because they could no longer find the energy to fight, simply to survive another day - no matter how much you loved them. 
Love can not heal broken people.  
A little louder for those of you in the back: LOVE can NOT heal BROKEN people. 
You can love them with everything you have, in every moment of every day until the end of time, and they will still be broken until they are ready to be healed.
It took me 2 years to realize that this was true and there was nothing logical for which I should feel guilt. No matter how many people said the same words, I needed to accept it for myself, in my own time: there was nothing I could have done to alter the outcome of the events from that night.
It took 2 years, a handful of loving friends, countless tear-filled nights, endless hours of soul-searching, and more love lost for it to FINALLY sink in: You can not save everyone; you can only love them. 
You can (and should) love them and support them, but you can not heal and save them. 
And that is no one's fault. 

More graffiti later,
~ A

Gone

Almost everyone who knows me knows the story of how Chris came into my life, and how he left it. 
For the last 2 years, I've wished I could have just one more conversation with him, just so things could be finished properly. I'm done wishing. 
After 2 years of questioning why and trying to pinpoint a reason, I've finally found one. 
I still believe that everything happens the way it's intended to. That there is some cosmic energy lining up the paths that are supposed to cross and creating obstacles to block the ones that aren't. 
After 2 years, I've finally let go of the "what if's" and started living my life for the "why not's." Just as Chris intended. 
Tell people how you feel because that opportunity may vanish after a moment, but the regret of your own silence could haunt you more than you possibly imagine. 
People come, and people go. Remember to let them. 
~ A


He promised her they would do it together. And then he left.
He told her they could weather the storm hand in hand. And then he left.
He swore to her there would be strength in their partnership. And then he left.
He said there would be good days along with the bad ones and assured her that as long as they had each other, they would make each day their own. And then he left.
He made a commitment to their recovery. And then he left.
He listed the benefits of changing bad habits into healthy ones, convincing her the changes would be worth it. And then he left.
He helped her find a path. And then he left her to pave it for herself.
So she did.

Desires

A little bit of creative writing for you!
Really, it's just punctuated graffiti. 
~ A


Once in a while, she catches herself lingering a little too long for what she tries to pass off as a "glance". 
Occasionally she finds herself wandering through the open fields of daydreams where their futures are sunflowers in full bloom; soaking in sunshine together, loving and beautiful. 
Sometimes, she gets stuck entertaining suggestions that taking action could inspire a change and things could realign and become a path to brightness and happiness with life.
Constantly, her heart and brain are at war with each other. Her feelings - too intense to ignore - are contrasted by the fear of rejection, and the agony of realizing that some things aren't meant to be. Perhaps they never were.
Ultimately, she realizes she's spending time planning for things that won't happen. She resigns to an unending span of days ahead, hoping in each hour for a strong longer-than-usual hug, a sweet kiss on the cheek, the gentle brush of his hand upon hers; the short glimpses of intimacy so many take for granted. She thrives powerfully on the tiny encounters in which he is solely hers; she desperately clutches them, willing them to sustain her until the next moment comes along.  
She loves him, and he her. The remainder, a difference between familial love and the love of a soul.