Post Nineteen: Alone Again

This is it. This is the night I face my new room. Alone. My new, lonely room.

Craaaapppp. I expected the wake to hurt. I expected the funeral to hurt. I expected the dream to hurt. I expected the apartment to hurt. I expected the ashes to hurt. But this? It really hurts.

I don't want to walk back there and go to sleep in my bed. Alone. With four pillows. Two that aren't... weren't my nightly pillows but his. Ouch. I feel my throat opening up. That's always what happens before the waterworks.

And the worst part is that I keep thinking if only I could call Samantha. Why am I thinking those thoughts? I know well and good that I can't call Samantha, so why am I dying to talk to her.

I am feeling plucked from my comfort zone. That makes sense. I was placed directly into my discomfort zone. This was not what I wanted out of life. This was not what I'd expected. This was what I most feared. My worst fear.

Crap. I don't know what it is about that room. I don't know why I feel like this. I'm lucky to have this room to turn to. But yet...

It's like I formally accept it by falling asleep in there. Whereas I was informally accepting it before. I was a coucher and a bed sharer, by necessity.

I kept thinking earlier tonight, why someone I love? why the ONE I love? why THE one?

My answer, my only answer I can give myself, is that he wasn't my one. but. that's the most repulsive answer.

I have to stop thinking questions like this. I think they are ruining my idea that I must have as many happy moments as possible. But it's hard not to feel lost in midst of everyone. Like a wandering, lost grocery bag on the highway. And that in turn makes me feel sad. Lost and Sad and Lonely.

All who wander are not lost. But all who wander are not NOT lost.

I think I'm lost, but I keep going anyways. Am I getting more lost? It's too early to tell, but it's definitely something I fear. Not my worst fear, but something I fear.

I don't know what my worst fear is right now, but you know what? It's not my death. I have people on the other side now. I won't be alone in death. Death is like life. It just IS. Everyday it IS. And every time someone dies, someone you love, a part of you dies. Just like every time someone is born, someone you love, a part of you is born.

Give and take. Though, to be completely honest, I'm feeling a lot of take from life right now. And it's hard to see past that to see all the give. I know it's there. It's got to be, because I'm still here, right?

But why? Why Zach? Why Sam? Why the Jones'? Why the Cawthornes? Why me? Why any of us?

What's so special about us that death invites itself freely into our lives? Do other people experience things like this? Repeatedly? In general?

Have I gone from normal to not?

Zach, help. I am having a hard time finding the answers to these questions and you were always so good at telling me what they were. Samantha, please, I don't know what to do, what's right? I trust your judgement. I need it.

What. am. I. going. to. do? (And more importantly, will it be right?)

With that, I trudge to a tantalizing slumber. What am I going to doooooooooo?