Agony

I keep the bedroom door closed now.

I have barely slept in our bed but like the room cool.

And tonight I had to open the door to get ready for hockey.

The whole room smells like you. I know it's because of your clothes and the blankets I won't wash and maybe from my teddy bear you so gently washed in the same detergent back when I told you how special she was because my nan gave her to me when I was 7.

I sleep with your pillow every night because it smells like you.

And last night I dropped mustard on the couch and waited to hear you say you told me o and I should always put a blanket down when it's hockey and food on the couch time.

But you didn't.

I managed to go to hockey again.

And every second on the ice my legs felt like they were about to give out.

I remembered I had forgotten to eat.

Me.

I had forgotten to eat and I can hear you now every time I came home and told you I had forgotten to eat.

BBQ nachos and wings delivered stat.

With a side of a little concern because you worry about me.

Now that big teal couch, the one we bought because I plopped into the "cuddler" (what the furniture guy called it) and told you I could read there forever.

"What my lady wants, my lady gets."

You said that so much.

Though all I ever wanted was you.

Okay, and that couch.

It's so big now without you, me and Colton on it watching Batman and him asking us who we would think would win out of two random superheroes and we would all hit Google.

Now I just look at the other end and wish you were on it, telling me to come curl up with you.

Agony.

This living without you is agony.

And I keep waiting for you to stroll through the door and tonight I pulled in the driveway and waited for the garage door to come up like you always did when I came home after hockey if you weren't playing too.

But it didn't.

Parts of me hurt I never knew existed.

Every time the clock hits 12:05 am I know it has been another full day without you.

And I miss you more than any words can ever express.

Old Haunts

Everything is so heavy and dark now.

Tomorrow is Mother's Day. I didn't even have cards. I was the one who always bought the cards, kept track of every occasion and made sure we were good. Brad always joked that I was the memory and list keeper in the relationship.

I had to go get cards.

So I went to Shopper's Drug Mart and every fucking card I picked up said, "from the both of us!"

And I started to sweat. I stood in line, sweat running down my whole body like a shower, my heart rate at about 190.

I got the car and cried.

I forgot a card for his nan.

I couldn't go back.

I needed gas.

Of course the receipt at the pump didn't print so I had to go inside and dropped everything I picked up until I had a panic attack and had to run to the car.

Every time I leave the house now I have to pass by where he died.

I can see the remnants of a tarp that is still there.

A post marking the scene.

And it's like he dies every single day.

That night comes flooding back and I'm back to standing in the arrivals area of the airport telling his mom something is wrong because Brad is not here and he has always been here.

And he's not here.

Just a tarp and post the only reminders of his last moments breathing.

I sit in the car, look at the hood and dash and think about how it all caved around him.

And broke him.

And I can barely breathe.

The houses we were looking at all have SOLD signs now.

And I have to do those things we looked forward to, so much, alone.

I hate this.

And it's really hard to believe in anything right now but if anything outside of this life exists that aligned this, just know I hate it too.

I've thought a lot.

I was never truly happy in life until he walked into my life at that arena.

And he made me smile every day after, even when we would have minor arguments we talked it out and it ended in smiles.

Our life together was full of smiles.

I love his smile.

And now there is no "Hi there!" where I come home.

No impromptu dinners downtown just because he felt like it.

"We should have a nice dinner before you go," he had said.

So we threw on hoodies and jeans and ate messy burgers not knowing it would be the last time for everything.

No crawling into bed and hearing him get cozy as I tell him, "No one on earth loves getting into bed more than you."

No middle of the night kiss when we'd both wake up because we're shit sleepers.

Sleep is even rarer now.

And when I do the dreams are convoluted and I can't find Colton's jacket and I look for you to find it but you're gone there too.

Sometimes you're there.

And when I wake up I hate every second because I just wanted to stay there with you for one more minute and hear your voice talking mundane day-to-day things everyone takes for granted.

I feel like I'm haunted now.

Everything keeps moving and moving on.

Except me.

I choose to think my life stopped when your heart did.

"Instantly," the report says.

The dashboard against your big heart and it having the power I thought nothing did - the power to make your love of this life end.

I knew something was wrong.

I just didn't know the whole world had crashed and burned.

And now we're all collateral damage.

Wish That You Were Here...

I don't know how to do this.

I don't know how to breathe.

Everything is like a weight crushing my chest while simultaneously ripping it apart from the inside.

And I swear if one more person tries to tell me time heals my brain might break.

A month.

A whole month without you.

Without your smile.

Your laugh.

Your jokes.

Your touch.

Your "nite nite."

A month.

Well, a month and two days, actually.

There are endless annals of quotes on love and grief that keep a steady stream on my timeline now yet nothing seems to even touch on the actual feeling of it all.

Not even groups and anecdotes from those who have also lost.

I cannot see how a grief counselor can help other than rehashing over and over the pain and screaming and crying while just wanting to know what in the actual hell could have ever aligned in the universe for all of this to happen.

Five seconds.

Five seconds earlier leaving the house.

Five seconds later.

Five seconds to grab a coat.

Five seconds to forget your keys.

And all would have been okay.

This living is agony.

It is hell.

And we always promised each other than when life got difficult we would help pull each other through.

Until someone stole you.

You didn't break that promise.

Someone else did.

Swept in like a cloud of tar that blackened everything.

You would always say, "It is what it is, Dwan."

But this should never be what it is.

I miss you.

And I love you.

And I wish that you were here.

Welcome to the Club

 I guess now is the point in time where this blog takes a turn.

"Welcome to the club none of us want to be in," someone said on a Facebook support group the other evening.

What a fucking club to belong to.

We meet every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday at every second of the day.

No need to bring anything, especially since you have nothing left.

There is never really an agenda, just rehashing that night over and over and over and wondering why the universe aligned in every tragically perfect way for this to happen.

There is screaming sometimes.

Crying is a perpetual state now.

What is the end goal here?

Survival, really.

So, welcome to the club.

Sit, observers.

Admission is free.

Yet it cost me everything.

"Speak soon, stay lucky..."

The first time I heard "Stay Lucky" by Gaslight Anthem was a long time ago. I loved it. The lyrics were fun, truth-speaking and relatable.

Over the years it was a song I always felt connected to and, after the last year (or more), there would be pieces every time I would hear it that seemed to jump out and address a particular situation.

This past week I was asked on multiple occasions, by multiple people, what my "speak soon, stay lucky" (the last lines of the song) tattoo meant. 

How do you put into words that type of connection?

Well, here, I'll try:

"It took so long to get me back on my feet,

It takes so long to find the words and the beat..."

These past few years have been a constant tire fire. 2020 has actually been a reprieve. Yes, you have read that correctly. I lost myself. And I lost a lot of who I was.

It took work and a lot of it.

But I'm back on my feet.

Music has always been like therapy to me.

Every time I would find myself hurting, in a hole, it was music I turned to. I can thank my dad for that. He always taught me that there is a song for everything.

"And it feels like all you'd have to do is step outside,

Stop pacing around and waiting for some moment that might never arrive..."

And I waited.

I waited on promises that never came true.

I waited on things dangled in front of me, like a hungry child, that never materialized.

I trusted people that I should not have.

Wouldn't it be so easy if we could just step outside and walk away from what plagues us? Alas...

"Nothing feels right in the winter and cold,

Steam, heat, clang and the dark at your door,

All the other rooms are a party tonight,

And you never got an invitation.

And you feel it in your bones, steady aching some more,

Twenty-five years gone about an hour ago,

Mama never told me there'd be days like these,

'Til it was much too late to recover..."

They were long months, and long winters.

I had dedicated my life to certain paths that seemed to be dead ends now, and that was hard.

Sacrifices, all in vain.

I got through with the love of some amazing people who talked, hugged, fed and cared for me. Every one of you mean the world to me.

But there is the chorus, the one part of the song that has always hit me where it hurts but in the most positive way.

"But you're never gonna find it,

Like when you were young and everybody used to call you 'Lucky'..."

These past couple of years I have struggled with where I have been and having to say goodbye to expectations.

When I was young they called me "lucky."

Lucky to be:

Smart

Athletic

Pretty

Loud

Outspoken

Funny

Lucky.

And I have been lucky.

Very.

So, I set goals for myself. Expectations. And then, there hits the realization that none of that is to be and those expectations have to be tempered.

And all of that potential that everyone groomed and praised is gone to waste so you had might as well accept where you are now.

But you are still lucky.

Just in a different way.

Those words inked on my chest, "speak soon, stay lucky," are the final words in the song but remind me that they're not the final words to my story.

And every day they remind me that I am still lucky and I do have a lot to look forward to.

That tattoo speaks to me like the song and, on days when I need a boost or reminder,

"It's right here in case you need it,

Like when you were young and everybody used to call you 'Lucky'..."

And there are a lot of times when I do need it.

So, there it is.

And a reminder to us all that when we have those bouts, when it feels like it is "much too late to recover," it never is.

It might take some time and more strength than you think you have, but you can recover.

And, when "it feels like you just might explode inside, you've been pacing around and waiting for some moment that might never arrive at all..." remember that there is a way out.

Do not be afraid to lean on those around you because I promise they are happy you are here.

There is a lesson to be learned in the line that says, "What you don't have, you don't need it anymore..."

I think sometimes that one is the hardest to accept.

Maybe what you thought you should have by now is not what is in the cards.

Maybe there is better.

If 2020 and 38 are any indication, the best is yet to come.

And on those days when things seem overwhelming and bad there are always little things that we should remember make us lucky.

I know I have been focusing on that.

And this year has brought me some things that have made me feel luckier than I ever have.

Sometimes you just have to move the goalposts.

So, my friends, have a great evening and, I know I have not written here in a while, so I'll try to make a habit of being around more...

"Speak soon, stay lucky."

Steel

Two pieces of  steel.

That's all they have ever been. Yet, since I was a kid, when things get hard I've known I could lace up the boots they were attached to and find some peace.

As I have gotten older those pieces of steel have gained more meaning and have brought me through stages I would never have gotten through otherwise.

Today was a hard day. I tend to be open about struggles but I cannot even put into words how today felt. I will try.

Hurt.

Hollow.

Empty.

Used.

Burned.

Those tend to sum it up.

Yet, at the end of it all, I knew I had to pull it all together and get to the rink. I'm glad I did.

I keep my circles small and always have. 3 years ago a friend invited me out to a skate and I am forever grateful he did. In that skate I found people I consider some of my best friends.

Tonight I sat in the room and one came over.

"You alright, buddy?"

"Not really."

"It's okay to not be okay."

And we hugged.

This is brief, I know.

But I just want to put out there how much it means to me to have 19 big brothers every Sunday.

Two pieces of steel.

That help keep it all together.

There are a few reasons I am still here.

One has fur, the others share two pieces of steel every Sunday and treat me like one of their own.

B'ys, I love you all.

And I just hope you know.

"I think I have it figured out..."

Sitting outside on a crisp morning we sipped tea on the first morning we had spent together in nearly ten years.

She took a long drag of a cigarette and said, "I think I have it figured out, you know."

I looked up from my phone.

"The way we were raised - we expect that love is going to be what we were told. We're going to meet someone who adores us for who we are, fall in love and live happily ever after. It's never like that though, is it?"

I nodded and there was a stinging in my eyes not caused by the morning sun.

And over those ten days in Edmonton we talked a lot about broken hearts, breakdowns, hurt and a lack of peace.

Since our teenage years it seems like when one of us experiences their world turning upside down the world of the other follows. No matter how much we have drifted over the years and how long we went without talking sometimes there would always be the call on a random night from one of us to the other, with tears, and in some weird, dark coincidence tears from the other would follow.

I guess we have always been connected like that.

Except this winter.

When I got the text that asked, "So, remind me how to do this single thing again?" my own heart was full and I was in the middle of the happiest period I can remember. Things were new and bright. I had an extra bounce in my step and I finally felt like I knew where I belonged. People noticed and said I looked lighter and happier.

I was.

I thought it strange as I tried to help as best I could my best friend in the whole world - the person who I have shared a sisterly connection with since I was 2 and she was a 3 year old fresh to the Cove from Labrador City - that for once our worlds did not coincide and I could not share in her heartbreak but could be strong enough for her to lean on.

And then everything righted itself; the happiness I was allowed to taste for that brief moment was taken away.

So I picked up the phone and we grieved, as we had done so many times before.

Except heartbreak tastes extra bitter when you are grown.

I think we are both cynics now.

Starting over but not knowing how to even put one foot in front of the other.

There comes a point when you realize that wishing at 11:11 is a foolish little thing to do because those wishes never come true, and when you think one has it manifests itself in a twisted way that only mocks you.

There is no magic bullet that will fix it all.

What is it all?

It is the burning in your chest and the lump in your throat that never goes away.

It is laying awake all night long with everything going through your mind and wondering what you did wrong and what you could have done differently to change it all.

It is loss and grief, not knowing how to give your own heart closure and grieving so hard that it all presents itself as a darkness that just hangs over everything you do.

It is wondering why you have never been enough.

And it is exactly what she had said - childhood ideals that we carried so long and wanted to believe but now we grieve for the loss of believing in all of that too.

I never expected to be here, nor did she.

But, there is one thing I am sure of -

Hold dear those who have been in your life since you were 2; those who you played mudcakes with and fought over Barbie clothes with.

If you have that person in your life, make sure s/he knows that you have appreciated their friendship and love every single day.

And as we trek forward, phonecalls and texts to try and console the other as we move forward through all of this, I cannot help but think where I would be without her.

Always my confidante; always my bad influence; always my cousin but sister.

Soon we will be sitting on a snowy deck drinking tea in the frigid Edmonton winter.

January cannot come fast enough.

God knows my heart needs it.