Who she was

On August 11th, 2022 I lost my partner of seven and a half years, T.

She was a warm, vibrant woman. A caring partner. A loving mother. A fierce advocate for children with special needs.

She was the one who made me laugh and smile, the one who made it worth going to work. The one who made me feel appreciated, loved, important, meaningful. For the first time in my life, I felt like I mattered to someone beyond what productivity I could provide for them, which was often given at my own expense.

It has been a little over a month since her passing and nothing is getting easier. People tell me I’m doing better, but I don’t feel like I’m doing any better. I still cry every morning that I wake up without her. I still cry every evening when I’m going to sleep without her. I still break down in tears 10-20 times a day. I choke up looking towards the sky, searching for a ‘T’ somewhere in the clouds. It is the sign I’ve chosen for her to send me to show that she’s okay. It seemed specific enough that I would recognize it, and simple enough that maybe it could appear somewhat naturally.

I still haven’t seen one.

I’m returning to work today. A decision that I didn’t make, but one that was made for me. A decision I don’t agree with, but one that’s not up to me. I suppose I should feel lucky that I was awarded so much time away. Some people get far less. Some people get none.

But all I feel is overwhelming sadness. T was my reason for going to work. I wanted to provide for the family we were building. She was the bright spot in my day after whatever slog I had to put up with during business hours. She was what made everything worth it.

But she’s gone now. And she has been gone for a while. And with her, my motivation and my happiness have gone too, as well as my sense of safety and security. My sense of purpose. My desire to keep moving forward.

More than anything I just want to lay down and die.

I don’t want to kill myself, mind you. That would take a strength and passion that has been robbed of me. I just don’t really want to exist anymore. Not without her. Not without T.

I don’t know how to keep moving forward, and more troubling, I don’t know how to even want to keep moving forward.