Death to October

I always get depressed around K’s birthday and deathday.
I guess this time of year doesn’t help matters. I HATE November, which is closing in fast. I like Thanksgiving, but that is it. I would prefer to be in a coma for the rest of the month.

Here is a blog I wrote about K last year around this time:

My favorite song to listen to when I am depressed is "Smoke" by Ben Folds Five. You can feel his despair in the way he bangs the piano keys and in the catch of his voice.

But, the lyrics...therein lies the magic.
"Here's a secret...no one will ever know the reasons for the tears"

That line says it all.

It's hard to lose someone that you love, but I've found that it's the sadness no one understands that is the hardest to deal with.

For example: If your cat/dog/significant other dies, everyone knows why you are sad. If your high school boyfriend that you hadn't seen in three years dies, people are sympathetic, but only to a point. When it's been a year and you are still talking about it, people wonder what is wrong with you. When it's been almost 20, they just think you are crazy.

"They were broken up!" They say to themselves. They think they know the whole story. But, they don't.

They don't know about the stolen moments that the two of you shared. They don't know about the soul connection that you still have. They definitely don't know that you dream about him at least once or twice a month and that you still wake up in tears when you realize that it was just a dream.

In the dreams you are as young and beautiful as he is. Perpetually twenty, full of energy and youth. You are still his girl, the one that despite the obstacles, like, oh…death, he still needs to be near.

No one thinks that the one they love will die young. They think that they will have forever.

When we last parted, it was as enemies. My beautiful man did not need to see me with a new guy. He really didn't need it on his turf, especially. The pissing contest ensued and I left in tears. It was ugly.

A few months later, I was packing to move three thousand miles away from my birthplace, thinking about him; wondering if I should call...wanting to make up before I left.

But, no, we would have time. We would have plenty of time to have another “drink” together. We'd laugh at that stupid fight, because we knew that no matter how much time went by, or who we were with, we would always wind up back together. We always had. It was how it was meant to be.

This is the lesson I am meant to learn. I need to cherish those I have now and leave little room in my life for regrets. My regret carrying case is now full, thank you! No more!