The Depression is palpable.  I can feel it coursing through my veins, slowing my body down and speeding up my mind like a perfect speedball except without all of the good part of the high.  Some days I want to die.  This is one of those days.

It seems so easy, what he did.  So final and quick. No suffering.  Not for him, anyway.  It must be a glorious feeling to just walk away from anything and everything that you didn’t want to deal with.  Just free.  Free of the binds of the insecurities, the darkness, the negativity, the apathy, the pretending.  Free of it all.  I would give almost anything to feel that right now.

Days like today I imagine how I would do it and almost fantasize about it.  I’m sure he did too.  I start to imagine how I wold set it up.  Would I write notes or not?  What would I say if I did?  How would I do it?  The least painful way for the people who have to find me or as open and as raw as how he did it so people understand how bad this fucking hurts??  I want everyone to know how badly this fucking hurts.  I want the people who have hurt me to know that they have fucking hurt me.  I want to prove to myself that I’m brave enough to go through with it.  He did, after all.  If he can, so can I.  We were so much of the same person.

But then I remember what the aftermath feels like and I think of my children, my parents, my best friend who would be the one to have to find me like that and I imagine how it would all play out.  Nobody would be able to get a hold of me and she would come over, probably at the request of my mother, and find me there, like I found him.  She would have to call my mother to deliver the news and my mother would break down and get on the first plane she could while my best friend stood around at my house talking to the Sheriffs and watching the medical examiner bring me out on a gurney just like I had to the night he left me to deal with the same shit.  My parents would want to take me home and they would.  But I would already be home.  Home to me was where he was and home is where I would be again.  With him by my side again, I’d be home.

I wouldn’t be able to do it.  I don’t really want to.  Please don’t worry.  I would never want to do to the people I love what he did to me.  Never.

It is just so extremely difficult to navigate this roller coaster of raw and synesthetic emotions.  Just today I had woken up to having had a great time the night before and I went to breakfast with my friends at the place in which I sat across the table from my husband and literally fell in love with him right then and there.  I took a beautiful picture of him smiling, wearing one of his favorite shirts.  We walked around the block together that day because we didn’t want to leave each other.  We stood in the parking lot, embraced and uncaring about how ridiculously in love we looked.  I can’t seem to begin to describe how painful it was to be there today without him and with these wonderful memories that have since been tainted by nightmares and 45 caliber bullets.

Today I could still see his car parked in that same spot when I walked past the space to get to the front door.  I could see the hat he was wearing, the way that the light streaming in from the window behind me had highlighted his gorgeous face as I stood and stared at the exact table at which we had been sitting. As I walked down the sidewalk from our parking space this morning, I could hear his laughter and feel the comfort I felt as I walked beside him on that same path, listening to his stories and telling my own after we had finished our breakfast and meandered around aimlessly just to be next to each other.  We had held hands and wrapped our arms around each other as we walked.  I could feel that gaze he had laid on me, like the warmest sunshine hitting your face after a brutally dark and cold winter morning, as if he thought I was the most beautiful and wondrous thing he had ever seen….it had made me feel luminous.

Today I felt black.  Dead inside.  Just so utterly empty.  Desirous of his end for myself.

I stood beside my friends looking out into the sea of memories, oblivious to anything else.  I was searching so hard for the sound of his voice, a glimpse of his face.  I wanted so badly to remember every little detail about him during the times we had together at that restaurant.  My friends would speak to me and I couldn’t hear them.  I didn’t want to.  I wanted to hear him.  I wanted to be with him.  And right now, I just want to go to him.  I just want to fucking go to him.  I want the man I fell in love with in that restaurant to be waiting on me when I cross the threshold.  I want him to tell me that he is sorry I had to be without him for the few months I had to be but that we will never be apart again.  I want him to have his arms outstretched, his smile lighting up his face and I want him to be so happy that I joined him and that we are together again, forever this time.

Sometimes the desire to go to him is so intense.  But then the fear sets in.  What if he’s not there waiting on me?  What if he didn’t want me to join him?  What if…what the fuck if.  Not only do I get to drown myself in the what if questions about how and why he left me, now I have to try to breathe inside of the ‘what if’ questions about me leaving too and honestly, the what ifs about my own exit and whether or not he would be there waiting, how my family and friends would react and the looks on my children’s faces when they learn what I’d done scare and torture me just as much as the questions I have to live with about his.

He had loaded one single round into the revolver that he left in the closet, choosing the rifle in the end.  What if the single round was left for me?  A choice.  An invitation.  What if I had taken the invite and just laid down next to him?  What if.  What if.  What if I do?  What if I don’t?  I toss the questions around my head with such fury that my head constantly pounds from my anxiousness and the stress of it all.  It hurts.  It just hurts so badly.

He was a part of me and it is hard to express what it feels like to lose a part of who you are. I miss him more than I could ever explain.  There are days I can get through and remember that tomorrow I may feel stronger.  There are days when I would do anything to just be with him again.

But please don’t worry.

I won’t.

I promise.