All Saints.

I used to revel in thinking deeply and meticulously about everything I could. Lately, it has been very painful to search deep in the annals of my brain and I wonder if it is even useful. There are far away aspects of my childhood that psychology might find pertinent to examine, but I wonder if it is just picking at scabs. I especially struggle with my recollections of this past year.

Immediately following Tyler’s death my grief was unbearable and it remained that way for three months. I could hardly remember anything about our life together. When Tyler died I got the impression he took all of my memories with him, and because very few people who I still communicate with knew Tyler, I was alone. He packed up his things and he left our apartment, then he left this earth with those same bags.

At first it was painful to think of his face, but now all I want to do is remember. All I want is our memories back, and the images of our time together to be clear in my mind. It still hurts, and the challenge is to not let myself think of him in public. Every memory excavation I do of my mind is accompanied with uncontrollable sadness, grief, hopelessness, fear, and unanswered questions.

Therapy is supposed to help. I enjoy my time there but I still cannot imagine a future where Tyler’s death will be something I can accept. Maybe I am not supposed to admit that; but how can I live with him not alive? This life feels so empty and fake. Each moment of grief feels like the first one.

A few very specific moments keep appearing in my thoughts. The time I locked myself out of the apartment and Tyler cut his hand open on a wine bottle. He picked me up at the neighbor’s apartment, I looked at his hand, and we went to Monoprix to stock up on medical supplies. I bandaged his hand. We stayed home that night.

The time we got dinner at the Chinese restaurant. The time we went to Bastille. The time he brought a coffee from home into Monoprix. The time we went to Château de Vincennes. The time we got sushi delivered at midnight. The time we laughed really hard.

The time I woke up and reached for my phone. A few minutes later, nothing but “No” repeating in my heart, my mind, my thoughts, every particle within me. My heart pounding.

It’s All Saint’s Day and I don’t know what that means anymore in whatever kind of religion. All my dead friends are saints to me, that’s all that matters. I miss Tyler more than I could ever write about.

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