Monday, April 23, 2012

Whale Eyes

I've spent most of the day crying today. The comfort of the sunshine seemed to melt the shell that was keeping me together, and let some of the pain ooze out. It still hurts so much. It's still so not fair, it still fills me with rage and makes me want to drive my car off a cliff. Simon should be here - everyday he should be here, and it hurts every day that he's not. There is so much he's missing, and my life just doesn't work without him.

It's late right now. Who knows if what I'm writing makes any sense, now or ever. I suppose I don't much care. I was flipping through photos of Simon on Facebook - as I find myself doing. Wishing that I could post new ones of him and of us. But his time line has stopped.

There's one picture where the smile he's giving is the same loving smile reserved for me - the smile and the face that assured me that I would always have my best friend by my side to care for me. The smile that reminded me how lucky I was to have found someone so special and so perfect. The smile that made his warm eyes shine with light and life, happiness.

Sometimes when I looked in his eyes, it reminded me of what it must be like to look a whale in the eye. There was so much power and depth behind those eyes - so many stories and so much wisdom. Blue Whales dive down deep, deep to the bottom of the ocean, and resurface with cuts and gashes from creatures we don't even know exist. They travel to a world we've never experienced, and I imagine when you look in their eyes, it takes your breath away. Simon was like this - once, before we even started "dating", I found myself avoiding his gaze at dinner. It was just too powerful, there was too much knowledge and understanding that I couldn't even connect to him at that moment. But later, I could. I wish I could again. I wish I could tell him again how special he is (was), and learn more about the life he had before he met me. Learn about the experiences only he knows, and try to understand the wisdom he had that made him so remarkable.

I once told him that his eyes reminded me of a whale's, but I lacked the ability to explain why in the moment. He was a bit taken aback, as perhaps he should have been - it's not often that one gets compared to a whale. I wish I could tell him, again, that I know how special he was.

Simon was my everything. What do I have left? I miss him so much.