“Why did you move here?”
I hate this question.
Because my life is in shambles? Because everything in Portland reminds me of my life with him? Because my heart is completely broken and the rain makes me feel like I can’t even get out of bed?
I end up saying something vague about needing change or wanting sun. Im dreading the day my answer is unavoidable. The moment of dead air where I rush to tell them “its ok!” even though it’s not. Their awkward apology, me hastily trying to change the subject.
Maybe I can just add everyone on social media and let them figure it out on their own. Whisper amongst themselves, leave me out of it.
Today my grandma was outside watering her plants, she doesn’t have many. When I came back later to ask her something the water was still running. It had been so long since she went outside I figured she should be done by now. My heart sank down to my ankles when I heard that water still running. I pictured her on the ground in that unnatural way he was. The water still running in the sink. I felt sick. When I saw she was still standing there, her lips pink, her eyes open, I wanted to cry.
Im now terrified of finding my loved ones bodies. Of living a normal life, drinking coffee, doing chores, and turning a corner to find a corpse. I want to puke.
Dealing With Death