Think of Me

Twelve days after his death, Ian and I were supposed to officiate a wedding together. I did it alone, and it went well. The wedding was great, and everyone enjoyed it. I’m very happy I was able to perform it. I love the couple, and believe that their marriage will be great. I wrote this that night after I got home.

That wedding was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do yet. I’m drained and shattered and so sad. But I’m going to cuddle up with one of his pillows and take NyQuil and try to sleep.

After I vent some.

Tonight, anger hit me. Ian left me alone to deal with his shit, to clean up his mess, and to cover for his ass and pretend to be happy while I was doing it.

I did a great job. No one could tell that I’d completely shut myself down while it was going on. I smiled, I laughed, I high fived and clapped. I pronounced the couple married and ushered guests out, smiling and chatting like I hadn’t a care in the world. 

I gathered the necessary people for the official part of signing the license and did that and clapped and congratulated and cheered afterward.

Then they all left and I was finally alone to cry. Because he was supposed to be there. He was supposed to be laughing and joking and enjoying this with me and instead he bailed and so not only do I have to do it alone, but with the crushing, shattering knowledge that he’s never going to laugh and joke again. That I’m never going to see that twinkle in his eye, or hear him murder a karaoke song, or smell his living smell again.

And I’m so pissed. I’m pissed because all signs indicate he didn’t think of me at all. There was no note for me. No nothing. Just a dead body. And while I can believe he thought of me, knew his family would take me in, trusted me to find him…. I don’t have any proof. All I have is hope and wishes.

I don’t know he thought of me at all.

And yet, here I am, lost, shattered, sad beyond my ability to comprehend, and still cleaning up his mess.

I miss him so much. Constantly. And there’s nothing that will help that but time. I know.

I just wish he’d thought of me….

Written 3/1/2014

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