Holy Thursday - A Year Later

Anthony died last year on Holy Thursday. Today is Holy Thursday. I can’t believe I have lived a year without him...a year without Anthony. It makes me sick to my stomach to think about it. And it breaks my heart, over and over and over again. And I cry. Every single day, I still cry.

It doesn’t feel like a year. I thought maybe it would hurt less, but it doesn’t. My grief remains an open wound...as raw, as painful, and as fresh as the day he died. I miss him so much. I am still madly, passionately, hopelessly in love with him. Anthony may be gone, his mortal body dead, but my memories of him are as alive as this very day. I can still see him, hear him, feel him, taste him. But I can’t really do any of those things, can I? Maybe in my mind, but not in the flesh. And that drives me crazy. Sometimes, it is utter torment. He is so close. And yet, he is not here at all. 

My God, I miss him. Sometimes, I miss him so much that I scream out his name at the top of my lungs. It shocks me. All of a sudden, this sound comes out of me, like the roar of an angry, red hot, erupting volcano. And it is just as unpredictable and uncontrollable. In an instant, it happens. And it shakes me to my core. I just keep screaming and crying out his name until I exhaust myself. It is agony. 

I ask, over and over again, “Why did he have to die? Why did he have to leave me?” No answer comes. Nothing that really makes any sense to a broken heart. Yes, I have faith. But my faith is only as strong as I am. And, sometimes, I have barely enough strength to hold on. 

Sometimes, the pain and loneliness is so great that sleep is my only relief. Sometimes, I get so tired of pushing myself forward. Just putting one foot in front of the other is so damn hard. Sometimes, I don’t want to talk, or move, or even get up to go to the bathroom. When the world becomes too big, too overwhelming, too lonely, I just go to bed and sleep the pain away. Yes, when my feelings threaten to swallow me up, I have to sleep.

Occasionally, I feel ashamed that I am not stronger or more stoic when it comes to dealing with my grief...or any of my feelings, for that matter. The world would have us believe that it is noble to compartmentalize all of our emotions and keep them neatly tucked away. Well, some of us (myself included), are deep feelers who jump into the waters of life before we consider the temperature, the depth, or the possibility of drowning in heartache. If I don’t jump in, I may as well not be alive. Anthony used to tell me I am brave and strong and passionate because I am not afraid to feel deeply. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m just crazy. Oh, Anthony, I don’t know why you loved me so much, but I am so thankful you did. 

So, this is it. This is Holy Thursday...the day I have been dreading. I keep looking at the clock and remembering where I was and what I was doing last year at the same time. I don’t know why I’m doing that. Maybe I’m still trying to accept the fact that Anthony is really gone. I know that must sound stupid...But, sometimes, I still can’t believe it. And I wonder how I’m supposed to live the rest of my life without him. Will the rest of my life be as lonely and as miserable as this past year has been? Will I feel empty and sad forever? Will each day continue to be a struggle...just another something on life’s endless To-Do list of mundane chores and responsibilities? 

My one bright thought in all of this? I keep telling myself that the depth of my grief and the sadness I feel is only this excruciating because the love Anthony and I had for each other was so…so…perfect.  As perfect as perfect can be in this world. It just doesn’t get any better than that. So, I guess that’s what I have to hold on to. I don’t expect I’ll stop feeling sad any time soon. When it comes to living without Anthony, I will always be sad. And so, I’ll embrace it and honor it, and even cherish it, because that sadness comes from the deepest place in my heart...The very same place where I hold my love for Anthony.