Sunday Letter #16

Ian,

Six months ago to the minute, as I start writing this email, I texted you, “Feel better soon. We miss you!”

It was the last thing you saw from me.

I still miss you.

I know that if you’d had any idea what your absence would do to the people you loved, you would have given therapy and meds a real chance. That’s one of the major reasons Depression is so frustrating. It lies so hard… And the lies were coming from your own brain, so nothing could convince you that they were lies.

Downfall of you knowing you were smarter than most…

This week has been really hard. I thought I was getting used to it… Not that it was getting easier or better, but at least I was accustomed to carrying the weight. And then some stuff happened at work. Stuff I would have talked to you about. Asked your advice on. Exulted to you about. Whined to you about. You helped me center… Get grounded and back to myself. And without you, I had a really hard time with it this week.

Then on Friday night, at the bowling alley, as I was leaving, a very drunk, tall fireman stopped me and started flirting. It was entertaining, and I’m sure he was a nice guy, but as I left and joked with the friend I was with, all I could think of was how I should be texting you about it and what a laugh we’d have had. And then I probably would have gone to your place and sung all night. Instead I went the other way home.. That doesn’t take me by the street I turned on to so many times to get to you. I avoid that road in that direction now.

I’ve been picturing your eyes this week, too… Seeing them looking at me. Wishing I could look into them again.

I keep thinking that my grief is selfish… That you were in so much pain, and now you’re not suffering through it anymore… And me wanting you here still is solely for me, for my gratification… My interests. It doesn’t matter, though. I still want you back. I still want you to be here.

I miss you so much, you could never have imagined it.

-Iris

Written 8/17/2014 1:52pm

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