I was on my way to the theatre (actually got there and the place was PACKED – forgot about Dark Knight vs. grimdark Supes), so I went for a long drive. Ironically, it was one of the things Mrs. Cisco and I used to enjoy even when we couldn’t afford do anything else. It’s the first time I’ve done something alone that we used to do together that felt right. Peaceful even. Managed to regain some sense of clarity, and to understand that today was no day to hang my head. My beloved is at peace, and I can truly do no more for her. I have to continue on my walkabout, find my place in this world, to be able to live my life in a manner worthy of the love she so unconditionally gave to me. I would have expected the same of her, and I can do no less.
It’s been a month since I lost Mrs. Cisco. I know it’s early, WAY early in the process, but the biggest change has been how damned SAD everyday things have become. You know when you wake up, but not all the way? That moment when the fog is still clearing? That’s my moment of peace. As soon as that fog clears and I roll over, reality hits again. Hammer to the chest. Every. Single. Damned. Day. She was part of the workday too, chatting back and forth, finding out if/what I needed to bring home, goofing off, simple stuff. Gone. Grocery shopping (admittedly not one of my favorite things to begin with) has become excruciating. And the QUIET. It’s just so damned QUIET. And not the kind of quiet you get when you’re with someone and there’s no NEED for words. Just silence. That’s the worst.
That said, I’m grateful for the time we had together. I’m glad I told her I loved her before she went to sleep. I’m glad she knew that. I believe she’s at peace, and I’m grateful for that. I know that I will see her again. And I know there’s a reason I’m still here. I may be wrong for saying this, but it had better be worth having lost her.