Mixed metaphors

Once again the blank page stares at me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hdgb4waNhn4

Today your memory haunts me as it does on the fifth of every month. I wonder why I cling to six months worth of memories so fiercely? Perhaps age, perhaps the specialness of the relationship.

I wonder if your family and friends grow weary of me; if your family and friends wait for me to grow weary of them as a polite way to sever contact. Many of your friends seem to have moved on with their lives. I do not fault them. I am sure they remember still, they just do not focus on you all the time.

Am I odd? I do not know.

Connie pointed out this past year was a rough one for me. My health hit the skids. Nothing major (except one seven-day visit to the hospital) but lots of little issues that begin to collectively weigh me down. Your death, my depression. The combination sent me hiding under a blanket most of  the time.

Now I peek out more regularly. While PH took charge for awhile, good health makes a comeback. This obsession with health plagues most PHers; CFers more. A certain amount of denial keeps us sane. You become what you dwell on. But one cannot allow denial to take over either. A fine balance. One small issue sends your health careening downward.

I poke and prod at your friends and family hoping to learn more about you. My curiosity drives this obsession. I discovered some wonderful people who must have helped shape who you were.

My reaction at your death was an honest one. I was scared, I was hurt, I was angry. I knew very little about your friends. Only what you told me in passing or I gleened from postings on FB. I saw postings meant for only one set of eyes, rather like hiding in the closet when someone makes love in the bedroom. The knowledge made me feel guilty that I knew things I probably should not have known.

You shared with me the episodes of your life which caused your trust to be shattered and yet you continued to yearn for the unattainable. I hope you found your peace.

I still miss someone.

Later.