The love of my life died unexpectedly 35 days ago. Without him I am not alive, I only exist- begrudgingly. I am 37 years old. How do I trudge through the rest of my days without him?
My beloved was the most exceptional human being on the face of the Earth- unpretentiously brilliant, devastatingly handsome, marvelously inspiring, the greatest lover I have or will ever know. He knew me better than I knew myself. He was Superman. And he honestly cared about me, truly loved me. He's the only person in my life who ever has.
I'd like nothing better than to just curl up and die, but I don't have the freedom to indulge in that luxury. I am a single mother of a 14 year old boy whose father's involvement is vague and sporadic at best. I have no family save my son (I was orphaned at 9), who refuses to tell me he loves me. He says he's not sure he does. I am the best mother I know how to be- have lavished him daily with love, attention, and affection; take an active interest in his education; have been careful and selective about all the influences in his life, and the only social events I've been involved in are ones that included him. The only times we've been separated are the four times I went to see my beloved (the last time which I also interviewed for jobs there), each time for less than a week, and my son stayed with a beautiful christian family he's literally known his whole life. The only man he's ever known me to be involved with is my deceased beloved, who lived in another state. The day I was supposed to move to the state where my beloved resided is the day he died.
Before we found each other I believed I was damned to not know love in this life, that perhaps I was being punished for transgressions in a past life or lives, that I was in Hell. When we found each other, it was so beautiful, so perfect, not only did it make all the horrendous abuse and neglect I'd been through worth it, I thought maybe it was the universe balancing, that he was my reward (as it were) for living through it and still striving to be a good, honest, decent person instead of the drug addict, thief, wastrel most with my background end up being. Now I'm almost certain I am in Hell, that he was only given to be taken away- a most exquisite punishment.
I wanted to give him everything his heart desired; wanted to wait on him hand and foot. There's nothing he couldn't have asked or had from me. As long as I could look in his eyes and see that I brought him joy, that to me was pure ecstasy. He was everything I could've dreamed of having in a man and more- noble, chivalrous, generous, compassionate, strong, sensitive... I kept telling him it was too good to be true, that I had to be in some loony bin somewhere having a delusion on Thorazine, that I was so afraid he would go away. He'd say he wasn't going anywhere, that it was going to be okay.
Nothing will ever be okay again. He's gone away forever, and all I can think is how wonderful it would be if there were a nuclear war, or an asteroid, some cataclysmic event that would kill both my son and myself so that maybe I could be with him again. I've rubbed so many tears away from my eyes trying to hide my devastating sorrow from my son and coworkers that I've rubbed a good deal of my eyelashes out. I've taken a second full-time job trying to occupy my mind. Nothing helps. I miss him terribly every minute of every day. For more than two years we talked every day, countless times throughout the day. I couldn't even go to his funeral, though with this second job I should be able to visit his grave soon. I'm hoping that will help me stop having these crazy fantasies of how he could still be alive.
I was his, mind, body, and soul, and he loved me. And he was mine, and I loved him so, so, so, so much. He was my heart. I only exist now. Without my heart, every day is pure agony. How do I trudge through every day of the rest of my life without him?
Please note that I would never be so selfish as to commit suicide and rob my son of his mother.