It just hit me laying here in my bed that I am alone again. O. K., I’m not really “alone”; I have my friends, my coworkers, and my family. However, in a way, I am alone again.In some ways, I think that I’m still in shock about everything. The part of me that waits for Suzanne to come back is starting to have flashes of insight that she isn’t coming back. Right now, they are just flashes though, has I chide myself for thinking such thoughts and go back to patiently waiting. What I worry about is the whole healing process; how long will it take. It took me years to get over April, and to be honest, I never completely got over her. It just got to a point that I could move on with my life. There will always be a part of my heart that April will control, has there is a part that Kathy holds as well. **sigh** I just think about past heartbreak and wish that there was so way to quicken the time; to lessen the pain. Unfortunately, modern medicine hasn’t come up with anything yet. O. K., I could just drink or drug the pain away. But those vices are only a temporary solution and not permanent.
The memories that I have of Suzanne are different from others. For Kathy, it’s fragrances and scents, even though she was allergic to them. April was def. about the words, spoken and written. With Suzanne, I would have to say it was visual; from the pictures and photos we took to the range of colors to describe our relationship. I have this song from Garth Brooks in my head, The Red Strokes I think. And yet, with the loss of my hard drive last Sept., I lost a lot of the images that I had of her. It makes me treasure the ones that I have left even more. And then there are the drawings that I have from her; the ones that she hated but which I loved. I would love to take them out and hang them up, but I made a promise that I wouldn’t. I guess I’ll mail them up to my parents house, where they can be placed next to my other memories. Then once or twice a year, I can travel up and take them out and pay my respects to the memories of the past.
I know that I am a romantic fool, but I did think that she would come last night. Lesson learned, Love is not enough, it is never enough.
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