Last night I was really missing my friend who died. It will be SIX years in August.
When the accident happened, I really believed, for at least a second, that God had it in for me, because he took the person most dear to me in the whole world.
I knew intellectually that the world doesn't work like this, but really. It was tough.
I wish he was here. There have been times in the last few years when I have felt so alone in the world, in part because he is not here any more.
I still talk to him sometimes, when I need extra help. I consider him to be one of my angels who watches over me. He and my grandmother. I asked them both for help this week, to watch over me because I have been going through a tough time.
I still have not been to his grave. Part of this is because I never seem to get time, part of it is because I know it's just his body there, so so what?, and part of it is that I know I will break down in uncontrollable sobbing crying. I wish he was here so much. There are things I want to tell him that I know he would understand, and he would know how to make me feel better. We always felt better after talking to each other.
The first year was the toughest. I was like a crazy person. I thought I was totally sane, but I was making these insane rash decisions. One of those was good (getting engaged to DH), but the graduate school/quit job/move across the country was bad. Really bad. Worst. Decision. Ever. Less bad but still not good was the decision to move apartments. My therapist at the time, who had been through her own friend loss, was the only one to speak up against the graduate school decision as well as the inter-city move, but I didn't listen. Why didn't I listen? (because I wasn't thinking straight)
The second year was bad too, but that was because I had inflicted so much change upon myself. I quit my job, moved across the country, started a Ph.D. program. Incredible stress, and I didn't react well to it.
The third year I started feeling more like myself. I remember going to see the movie The Hours and being delighted that I enjoyed watching a depressing movie again. That was one of my favorite things to do, and something we would do together- go see a depressing art or foreign film together. I loved it.
So I am more or less, back to myself, existing in a new normal. But I still miss my old normal desperately at times.