I didn’t post yesterday because I spent the bulk of the day driving. Long drives are really good for me. They give me a chance to think, to process, and to just BE. Turn up the music and go.
Ian and I took a trip at one point, down to Illinois to see Willie Nelson in concert. It never got normal, how natural we were together… How well we got along, and how much we just fit. That trip was no different. We started out listening to my music, and he whined about it. Then realized he liked it. Then whined more. We joked and laughed, and talked seriously, and really just had a wonderful day into the night.
He would float the idea of road trips here or there, and I’d always say that yes, that would be fun! Let’s do it. But he never went further than to float the idea. “Wouldn’t it be fun if…” Looking back, it makes sense to me, his inaction. He was depressed. Putting something like that together, actually doing it, was far more than he could fathom doing. Having experience with depression myself, I get it. Having ideas of things to do that will be fun is a lot easier than actually going through with them.
During my drive, I was mostly good. I sang and thought and pondered and planned… But at one point, a song talked about eye color… and suddenly, his eyes popped up, looking at me, and I cried.
I’m able to sing our songs. I’m able to enjoy the things we did together. I’m ok. But gods, I still miss him terribly.
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