Lights and Sirens

People pay attention to the lights and sirens of emergency vehicles for many different reasons:

For some, there is a natural curiosity of what might be going on;

For others, they feel the urgency to make way and respect the first responders;

I loved trying to catch a glimpse of the unit in the hope that I could see my Sweetheart.

If I knew there was potential for it to be his truck in the area, I'd move to the side and then try my hardest to see  the unit markings and try to see him up front. It didn't happen much, but sometimes it did. Sometimes I was already on my way to see him - I'd give a "I know you've got to go, baby" wave as we passed in opposite directions. When I'd tell him later that we crossed, he never noticed - he was in work mode anyways. But I knew. I got the chance to see him in his element.

I usually continued on to the station and waited in the hope that I could still catch him after a cancel or on a quick turn-around. Sometimes I'd get started on the dinner that I was planning to make; it all depended on the station. Some you had to show up with food hot and ready and hope that there was enough of a lull to chat while you finished it; others you had pretty good odds that you could stay a while and maybe even prep there.

If meals plans had to be canceled, I'd prep a plate for him or leave the leftovers somewhere he could grab quickly, scratching a quick "I love you. Be Safe." on a note or piece of computer paper.

I turn away now when that reminder is present. I don't want to look, I don't want to wonder. There is nobody that I could catch a glimpse of any longer that will make my heart pause and bring a smile to my face. The sirens are now an approaching flashback to what is just memories and the lights a bright burning reminder of love lost.

I wish they could be removed entirely.

To celebrate or not to celebrate

It would have been your 30th today.

I broke down yesterday in the car driving by myself. There are so many times during the day where for a split second I start to do something with you in mind. It might be reaching my hand for my phone because something just happened and I want to tell you about it. It might be the start of a sentence that includes you in some way and I catch myself not wanting to explain what I mean or the circumstance. It might be watching someone in front of me reach down and interlock their fingers. It might be a reference or a key word or an inside joke that flickers through my world on any given day. The worst is when I'm not expecting it and I catch a smell of you or a glimpse of a passing stranger. For just for a second the zone which employs logic is overwhelmingly flooded with an aura of hope.

Hope for just a second. And I miss you.

It's like being pricked with a needle every single time. Most of the time I just catch myself and I know, I mean know, that I can't keep going down that avenue of thoughts and imagination because it makes no sense. But when it happens it's this sad and lightly painful reminder that you are not available to me any longer. And most of the time it hits like a needle prick. And just like being picked on by a younger sibling or losing patience with any repeated aggravation, eventually that needle breaks the skin again and I have had enough. Then comes not just the light pain but the sobbing, visible, heart-destroying ache. Pain is never lost when you leave; it just splits into pieces and is distributed to those closest to you and always in varying intensity.

I've been fortunate that most of those episodes have not happened in the presence of another. Some of that is a constant mental guarding from walking down the path of reminiscing once that initial poke of the needle happens. If I block as much ruminating as I possibly can and leave those thoughts for periods of life's silence then I avoid the awkwardness of the public breakdown.

I think tonight I may not have the strength to guard. We should have been in Vegas, should have been around family and friends and those who love and appreciate you. I am lucky to still spend time with some of those people but I'd send them all packing on my own dime if it allowed it to just be you and me.

An empty wish - that will not be possible. I know...

17 Days

It's 1 AM so technically we're at 17 days now.

I can't believe how quickly time has passed. It's no less painful at 17 days than it was at Day 1 knowing that you're gone. At least Day 1 was disbelief - emotions were raw and un-judged. Day 17 with time for thoughts and reflections there comes an additional component of guilt. It's also enough time for people to start bothering you because they think enough time has passed that they can insert their opinions and concerns rather than giving you space.

Seventeen days is both too much and not nearly enough time. It's more time that I ever wanted to spend away from You and not enough time to expect myself to have formed many coherent thoughts.

I went to our house again today, Sweetie. It still smelled like you. That blend of scents that cannot be re-created: it's our laundry soap mixed with deodorant and cologne and hard work and "You". I pulled as many clothes as I could that had that wonderful blend. It's going to be an awful day when that no longer lingers. The "You" part of it... that I can't ever recapture.

I'd give anything in this world if I could.