I cannot thank all of you enough for your support, well-wishes, sympathy, empathy, commiseration, and, of course, lending me your "ears", as it were. It has been and continues to be an enormous help. Exposing myself in this or any other manner is actually very out of character for me.
I have been a solitary person pretty much all my life. I know a lot of people, have some friendly acquaintances, but my beloved was the only person I truly considered a friend. So, there is no one for me to go to, no tangible shoulders to cry on, no "mates" to see me through. No relatives, no siblings. Just me, all alone (and my son, of course), as I was before him and am now after his departure.
I am from a small town in the deep south. There just aren't men like my beloved where I am, and the thought of moving up to where we were supposed to be together just seems like it would only make the hurt worse.
I am an oddball where I come from, and any connections I try to make generally end up with me being called damaged, a freak, scary, crazy, or some other cruel thing, so I don't even try any more. My beloved and I had similar scars. He understood my proclivities, my deep-seeded rage, and how they meshed with my desire to be a good person at heart like no one else ever has, and I know no one else ever will- especially not here where I live. Not only did he understand them, he loved me for them. Not in spite of them, but for them. I can't imagine anyone else ever doing so. So, when I read "Onepartyleftstanding"'s comment: "Someone is desperately looking for you. Please hold on long enough for them to find you." I bawled. I don't think so. My beloved was 55 when he died- 10 days after his birthday. I have no idea how he died. Not being an immediate family member and not knowing any of his immediate family, all I could find out was it was an open casket funeral. I found his obituary online.
He felt just as isolated as I did, found our connection as unusual, awesome, and surprising as I. We had many conversations on how astronomical the odds were of us finding each other. He had been telling me for the last couple of nights before his death that he wasn't feeling well, that he didn't feel like talking. I thought he was blowing me off, and the last message I sent to him was, "I read you loud and clear". I didn't get to tell him how much I love him or how much he meant to me, which fills me with enormous regret and guilt.
One of the things that makes the pain so poignant is how similar it is to the death of my mother. No one explained to me that the cancer she had was going to kill her. She went into the hospital one day, like many times before, and just never came back out. And if ever I dared to express grief over the loss of my mother, I was told to shut up and get over it. My father being the abusive bastard he was (getting in trouble with him meant going to the hospital for stitches, or broken bones, or both), the courts in their infinite wisdom decided my mother's boyfriend at the time of her death (and the only other person willing) was the best choice to have custody. I'm not sure which would've been worse- my physically abusive father or my mother's pedophile boyfriend who liked to share with his like-minded friends, of which he had many. So, I've always had a deep-seeded fear and mistrust of men in general. But not with my beloved. From the very start there was an unusual trust that filled me with hope for my future and the world in general. That's gone now, too. And, like mama, one day he was there, and the next he was gone, just like that.
As for my son, he's been telling me he wasn't sure if he loved me or not since he was 5 or 6. He's had some serious medical problems. He has a thyroid disorder that wasn't diagnosed until a couple of years ago, and apparently around the age of 5 or 6 he started developing hyperinsulinemia, which caused him to suffer a form of juvenile dementia. He had violent outbursts, claimed he wanted to kill himself, would expose himself and urinate on the walls and floors when put in time-outs, threaten to hurt people. He was kicked out of preschool because I wouldn't agree to have him put on ADHD meds because I knew that wasn't what was wrong with him. I had asked his doctor to check his thyroid on several occasions, and was lied to about it actually being done. I finally found a doctor that actually ran the tests I requested and, lo and behold, it was just as I thought. Things are better, but our relationship is scarred. A lot of the affection I shared with him had to change when he went from being so underweight at 4 that he had to be weighed every week to borderline obese at 5, making it impossible for me to pick him up, or ride him on my back, or many of the other physically loving things we'd done before. I tried to adjust and continue to give him as much affection in other ways, but I think he felt slighted, maybe even neglected, and definitely hurt.
He never had the opportunity to meet my beloved. He was aware of his presence in my life and that I loved him and he me, but that was about the extent of it. I tried to get him to come with me on the last two trips, but he said he'd rather stay with our friends, and I wasn't inclined to force him. So, for him, there is no grief, no loss.
My beloved was a great source of advice on how best to handle situations that came up concerning rearing my son. I simply cannot relate to his life. By the time I was his age I was living on my own, going to school, and working full time. I spoil my son rotten- wait on him hand and foot and give him everything he wants (within reason) that I am able. He doesn't remember my birthday, if he even knows when it is, but then, that's something that's been common to my whole life. As for mother's day, forget it. It's just another day on the calendar, which is fine because I have no desire to solicit false affections from anyone, including my son.
The loss of my beloved is by far the worst thing that could've happened to me. Compounding the loss is the fact that moving to be with him meant better medical care for my son, better schools, and a better future for my career. But I cannot imagine moving there now, even for all those things, with the memory of him so vivid there, not to mention not having a clue how to navigate in a major metropolitan city all by myself.
I have been trying to forget. I only had him for 3 years, and 95% of that was long-distance. So, I've been trying to pretend it never really happened, that it was a dream, a fantasy, not real, just as I'd always feared. But, it's not working. I miss him severely, the only person that actually, truly loved me (and I him), heard and understood me, validated me, gave me a purpose, inspired me to reach out for new and better things both for myself and my son.
This was too big for me to carry alone. I tried, I just couldn't. Which is why I chose to expose myself and post this diary. And it was my beloved who directed me to this website many months (a year or so?) ago.
I was sorry to not have been able to join the Monday night grieving room as suggested, but getting off the first job at 1pm, going in to the second at 3 and not getting off till midnight, and having to be back at the first at 7am made it pretty impossible. The last conversation I had with my beloved was about getting the first job, a job which I hated, but had only planned to work for 6 weeks to help with moving money. I quit that job today. Trying to smother my grief by working till I dropped wasn't working, and I was miserable there. It didn't help that I thought of that last conversation with him every time I had to go there, that it was the last conversation, and what I wish I had said when I had to opportunity. Anyway, hopefully I'll be able to catch next week's meeting when I get home from my other job between 12:30 and 1am.
I'd also like to thank PapaChach for the anti-dehydration info and note on taking care of my health, because there's no one to tell me such things now that my beloved's gone. I've been working 7 days a week for 5 or 6 weeks, one job in a hot kitchen (cooking) with no a/c, the other in a warehouse where the a/c isn't working. I've been getting plenty of exercise between the two jobs, but eating... yeah, just haven't had the stomach for it much. Got some meal replacement bars to quiet my stomach's squelching, but I've lost about 15 pounds in that time and almost passed out a couple of times. So, thanks for that.
Thanks so much again, to everyone, for everything. Reading these things you say to me, coming here, is the only time, the only place I feel comfortable letting the tears out, and boy, do they come out reading what you have to say.
Where I am now: http://youtu.be/...