it still hurts.
hurts to know that he's gone. that i'll never get one more conversation. one more hug. one more reaction to news i have to share.
while it still hurts, the pain has gone through changes. it has morphed. evolved. feels different.
it's less physical. it's less about the actual absence (which over time, i've been forced to learn to live with). it's less about the uncertainty of tomorrow (since, over time, the living becomes proof that making it is possible).
but there is what i've come to call "the pain of the pain." the undeniable recognition that i've had to experience this. endure this. that life could hurt this bad. that it's mine to carry.
somehow the thought of the pain, the reflection on the pain, causes pain.
maybe because though i know it may continue to evolve over time, i also know it has forever changed me. and i liked the me before the pain. or maybe it's because no other pain before this one seemed to so deeply penetrate every aspect of my life. to the point where i can't separate myself from it. and to the point where i know what others who've experienced this kind of loss have said to be true: the pain doesn't go away; you just learn to live with it.
that doesn't really sit well with me. doesn't seem very optimistic. doesn't seem like much comfort. or like any of those other positive things i've always tended to extract from life.
but as painful as it is, it may in fact be real. real life. real pain. real long. really.