It will be five months since my Charlie passed away this Christmas. Not exactly the milestone I wanted to celebrate the end of 2015 with.
Daily life has not been difficult to adjust to. His health was at a point that I handled most things around the house. Did the shopping, chores, paid bills, and worked. Most days are the same now as they had been then and I think that I’ve gotten past the worst of the loss.
He did help me with writing. He was my editor and sounding board. We knew each other so well, I could bounce ideas off him and he could tweak them the way I needed to relate them in my stories. He was my muse. I fell in love with him for the simple fact that he loved my weirdness. He admired my writing and encouraged me. He loved me for me, and I loved him for him.
When he left me, a huge part of myself left with him. It wasn’t that I lived for him, but that I lived with him by my side. I finally became a published author with him by my side. I attended my first Comic Con with him at my side. We became parents at each other’s sides and we became grandparents at each other’s sides.
I wanted to grow old with him at my side. I wanted to share retirement with him at my side. I wanted to go to our first DragonCon with him at my side. I wanted to accept that future award for author of the book some great movie or TV series as based off of…with him at my side. He did not define who I was. We defined who we were. He always told me I was not allowed to die first because he couldn’t live without me. How am I supposed to live without him?
I have family who love me. I have good friends. I find joy in doing things for them. What I cannot find is joy in doing things for me alone. Even things we got for ourselves would be to make the other happy as much as ourselves, too. I know he would want me to be happy and do everything that would make me happy. The problem is…nothing feels right doing it without him. Even writing, I just…can’t seem to find a way to do it without him. Even if it would make him happy for me to do it still.
I can’t find the me who preferred being alone. Who loved getting lost in her worlds. I can’t find me, and that’s what I don’t know how to do without him.