Whenever I open my fridge, I see this on the bottom shelf. A Coca-Cola, an oatmeal chocolate chip cookie, and a note written on the post-its I gave SCL for Christmas: "You can have this." He left it for me yesterday, and I haven't figured out what to do with it. I've managed to put the pictures away, the mementos in the closet, but this plate in the fridge I can't seem to part with. It seems simple enough really: drink the Coca-Cola, eat the cookie or throw it away, toss the note, wash the plate. Enough already! What's with the drama?
But unlike the pictures and other reminders, this I seem to forget about until I need to get a drink of water or some creamer for my coffee. Then BAM! This hits me in the gut.
Every week SCL went to a lunchtime meeting at school where there were always leftovers that he'd take home: usually two Cokes, two bags of chips, and two cookies for us to share. One of those little things that was part of the life we shared together, a part I hadn't thought about losing until I saw this plate. "You can have this." His thinking of me broke my heart because I realized that it was probably the last time he'd think or be able to grab me a cookie. He won't think about me in the same way anymore because...
We aren't the same anymore.
That is what hurts. Knowing things will never be the way they were, the way they were just less than a week ago. Knowing that he's not going to think to pick up that extra cookie for me. It all slipped away from me so fast, without warning. So much adjusting, so much discomfort thrown at me at once when I wasn't expecting it, I wasn't prepared, I was caught off guard. Frankly, I'm angry that I have to do all of this work, to adjust to a life that I don't want. At least I don't want it just yet. It's hard to imagine ever wanting this, ever being content to be without him and by myself.
I feel weak and alone and miserable and confused. And I just want a puppy, damn it!
Last night SCL stayed over Thursday. We talked. It took everything I had in me not to climb in bed with him and hold him close. He was upset, and I found myself comforting him because that is what I do. I comfort him. Why can't I comfort myself?