I wish I could report days of happiness and joy. But I can't.
I feel like I am walking around with an open wound. It's been like this throughout the whole holiday season. This year feels worse than the past two years. Why am I crying so much?
I suppose I can answer my own question.
Michael loved Christmas. He loved Christmas not because he had so many wonderful childhood memories, more because of all the magic and wonder it stood for. Michael always yearned for the good life. His life growing up was not easy. His mother worked two jobs to meet the needs of her two young boys. She was not a widow, but a woman forced to meet all of her children's needs due to a father who walked away.
I yearned to give Michael everything he wanted. He deserved it all. What did Michael want most? Me.
I gave Michael my heart completely. I held nothing back. I brought him into my life, into my home, into my family, then began planning for our life together. Just as those plans began to materialize Michael was diagnosed with cancer. It was a sobering wake up call. I learned that while my love would last the test of time, our time together would not.
I won't lie. I did my share of anticipatory grieving, yet I kept this in check. I would not be short changed out of any possible time of loving him, holding him and celebrating him. Take all of this...his love for Christmas, reminders everywhere I look and listen, and...tears. Lots of tears.
I'm a mess and I know it. I'm a mess and my boyfriend knows it. I'm a mess, and still, I am loved. I've decided not to run from it. I have never, ever, run from anything that appears scary or uncomfortable. I tend to be a "face it head on" type of guy. So if a song brings on emotion, I am allowing myself to sob as I sing. If my boyfriend's love and attention reminds me of what I lost, then the tears are again welcome.
I've decided to accept that I have this open wound. At the same time I have decided to accept that I have someone beside me willing, and wanting, to help me heal that wound. Abel is not expecting to completely fill the wound that I carry, and I don't necessarily want it completely filled. I think I want to feel both loved and fulfilled, yet with room to always acknowledge the place that only Michael occupies.
Open wound. Healing every day.