Feeling Lonely

Working through my grief, and my counselor, Patrick, says I'm doing well. I feel okay many days, but I still have bouts of loneliness. I come home at night and wish the world that Michael would be here to welcome me home. In those moments I yearn for some human companionship.

It's going on nine months (about 10 days) since he died. I've noticed that most people have really gone on with their lives. I understand that's the reality of life, but I also feel sometimes like I've been left behind, as if life has gone on without me, and I'm stuck going through the motions of work and paying bills but not really feeling like I'm completely alive.

In this amount of time since his death, I've discovered some truths about myself. I have changed since he died, and I'm not the same person I was when we were together. His death has opened my eyes about people and what's really important in my life. I don't mean to sound judgmental, but I see how people act and respond to things that happen in life, and I realize more than ever what kind of energy I need in my life (and what kind of energy I don't).

I also have seen that not all the friends of Michael and mine were really friends. I'm not surprised by this revelation. In fact, I'm actually quite glad to open my eyes and see who have been a constant in my life through the past nine months. I also am so grateful for the few friends (Matt, Chad, Kyle) that I've been able to grow with in this new chapter of my life.

Tonight I'm feeling a bit lonely. I know part of it has to do with being stressed out at work with a big project. I look forward to this weekend for some down time with myself and taking care of me. 

Donation Complete

Cleaning out the closets took me a bit longer than I had planned. I had underestimated just how many clothes Michael and I had. Secondly sorting through the clothing was an emotional chore. I ran into shirts and pants that were his favorites to wear. I realized that I would never see them on him again. I found shirts and pants and other items that we had bought on our many trips together over the years -- T-shirts and jeans from our many trips to Montreal, a pair of shoes from a quick trek to Chicago, a pair of pants from Miami, a jacket from P'town. Most items of clothing carried some small memory. I also found pieces of clothing that reminded me of special events in our nine years together. A shirt reminded me of one of our parties. A T-shirt brought back memories of working in the yard and another reminded me of bartending together at Fountain Square.

I'm so fortunate to have all those memories that each piece of clothing symbolizes. Although I decided to donate most of his clothes (okay, I did keep his favorite pair of jeans), a big part of him is still with me. Every time I remember a memory, a part of him is with me.

Today I donated a total of 47 pairs of pants (27 dress, 20 jeans), 63 short-sleeved shirts, 16 long-sleeved dress shirts, 50 T-shirts, 28 undershirts, 30 pairs of socks, 16 workout shirts, 10 shorts, 8 sweatpants, 12 pairs of shoes, 15 fleece, 2 belts, and 3 coats today to Wheeler Mission on behalf of Michael.

I find comfort in knowing that people less fortunate that Michael and me will be wearing his clothes, and I hope one day to be walking downtown and see a familiar T-shirt or dress shirt. It will keep him close.

Cleaning Out Closets

Part of the grief process is not only saying goodbye to Michael, the person, but also saying goodbye to many of his clothes and possessions. One good thing about being gay and being with someone somewhat close to my size was we were able to wear many of the same clothes (especially shirts). I spent some time before I went on the trip sorting out what clothes to donate and which ones I still wear.

Tonight I spent another couple hours going through short-sleeved and long-sleeved shirts as well as pants hanging in the closet. Several times tonight I've found a shirt he wore a lot. What was my reaction? I immediately put it up to my nose to see if I could still smell a part of him on it. Perhaps a bit odd, but I would do anything to be able to smell him again (besides of course seeing and touching him and hearing his laugh).

I still have three drawers and one line of hanging clothes to still go through. When I'm done, I'll put everything in garbage bags and donate them to Wheeler Mission. During our nine years, every couple years we'd come up with 4-5 full garbage bags of gently used clothes that we didn't wear anymore and donate them to Wheeler. I plan on making one final donation in his name with these clothes. Who knows? Maybe one day I'll be driving down Washington Street and see one of his shirts walk by me. He'd be glad knowing someone in need was getting some good use out of his clothes.