Two truths

Dear Kevin,

Oh, there are so many things to say about love and loss, life and paradox. Some days I feel as though I have said everything I can about grieving you. Some days I feel as though no one wants to read any more of this crap. And some days I simply don't know what to say. That's why today's post is so late. If you were here we would think it through together and come up with something. You'd help me think through the old things in new ways so I will write to you and see what we have to say to one another across the veil.

Today was a good day. Last night I had a gig that was well attended, everyone liked the stories and I raised about $275 for pancreatic cancer research. I hate that pancreatic cancer is such a central part of my vocabulary now. Today I delivered a keynote and workshop that were well received. I had a meeting with some people from city government and was useful to them. I earned enough money that this month I am paying my rent out of earnings, instead of savings, a milestone for any small business and one you know I was eager to achieve.

I was thinking about all of this and, more than anything, I wanted to call you. I wanted to sit on the porch with you and toast the fact that I am actually getting gigs, helping people, learning to live without you. And as soon as I thought that I started sobbing, the big, wrenching kind of cry I don't do so often anymore.

That's what this life is now. A paradox where I am doing the things I never thought I could without you and you are the only one I want to tell, the one who would truly understand what this means. I could not do this without you but I am doing it without you. I am living in a kind of tension between two truths.

I've written about all of this before, here in this blog and in my journals, full of love and longing for you. So I don't really know what else to say. Equally, I know I must keep saying something, must keep reaching forward and back at the same time, I must become my own tenuous thread between the life I am building alone and the life we built together. I hate it that the life we built together is now the foundation of this one alone, but here I am. Building because I don't know what else to do and because doing anything else would dishonor who you helped me to be.

I hope you know all of this somehow. I believe you still exist in some way beyond my easy understanding and know that you know how much I love you, how grateful I am. I just wish I could tell you this and see your answering smile.

I miss you.
I love you. And that truth supersedes the others.
The love remains.

Laura

(c)2015 Laura S. Packer