I have a boyfriend. That’s been really hard to say, but it’s
true. And it’s serious. Like he
lives-in-my-house-and-interacts-with-my-daughter kind of serious. So grab a
snack.
Being alone is probably the worst feeling that followed my
grief. I slept in an empty bed, watched tv in silence, cooked dinner without a
sous chef, drove to work and home without carpooling. I had no one to laugh
with, no one to kiss goodbye, no one to tell my deepest secrets and silliest
thoughts. When you lose the person closest to you, it’s quickly apparent how
much you depended on them to feel significant in life.
But I did have a best friend who worked really hard to keep
me company. She made sure I ate, included me in her family activities, and
truly kept me from falling deeper into the unavoidable depression abyss. It
just wasn’t the same. I joked that I felt like her sister wife.
At one point, about three months after losing Andy, I could
take no more. The sadness and loneliness encompassed me whole. I was strong in
many ways, but I was so alone.
Melissa had hinted about her friend that I hadn’t met. She
said he was really funny and sarcastic, and it might be nice to meet someone
who didn’t know the “old” me. She had wanted to invite him to hang out with our
group of friends, but the timing hadn’t worked yet. So I agreed to give him my number and
hoped I could meet a new friend who would not give me the sad look everyone
else seemed to do when talking to me.
He was hilarious. We texted back and forth all day for about
a week. There was no flirting at all. It felt so nice to genuinely laugh.
We finally got to meet about a week and a half later. We met
up at Boondoggles around 8pm, and we closed it down. He knew a bit about what I
had been through, but it was nice to talk about virtually everything else. He
understood that I was in pain, and he let me tell him bits and pieces about the
old me on my own time.
And he reminded me a lot of Andy. Like eerily so. Likes,
dislikes, mannerisms, humor- really so many things. But he was also plenty
different for it not to be too creepy.
Things progressed over the summer, we traveled together a
bit, and he moved into the house in January. Lexie likes him, more than I think she lets onto, and he is the ultimate “roommate” for her.
The only approval I really needed was my own, but I’m so
grateful that everyone seems to accept him in my life. He keeps me safe, sane,
and smiling. And if he acts up, plenty of people have offered to “set him
straight,” lol.
Freddy knows that I will always grieve. My sadness did not
magically disappear. I am a much more hardened person than I was in my past
life. I don’t take things for granted. I grasp at opportunities to be happy. I
hold onto the few people that are closest to me.
