It’s true. I’m not the person I used to be. I’m just not.
We met when we were 19, and were inseparable from the start. For 22 years we wove ourselves into each other. Intertwined. Enmeshed. Our whole adult lives were built in reference to one other. Decisions made, together. Children raised, together. Journeys traveled, together. I don’t know what it is to be an adult without Suse.
The person I used to be? I was complete, I was complemented, I was more than whole with you. Without her, I am less than halved, torn apart, with nearly every fibre of my being flapping uncontrollably, nervously in this existential storm of grief.
Where are you? That’s the question I ask so often now. Where are you? Who I was, was where you were. And now I search and you’re nowhere. “She’s in your heart” people say. Yes, but she’s not in my arms. And she’s not in my eyes. And she’s not in my ears. And she’s certainly not by my side.
Who was I? I was understood. I was known. No-one else in all the world knew me better. You could finish my sentences for me. You knew what I was thinking before I even thought it myself. How isolated I feel now. How misunderstood.
Who was I? I was loved. Sacrificially. Graciously. Generously. My failings you forgave. My insecurities you carried. My achievements you supported. You enabled me to be more than I could be without you. And you did it joyfully, gladly. You served with a smile. You coloured the walls of our home with an unceasing enthusiasm for life. Our family was enriched by your vitality.
Who was I? I was adored. You valued my care. You valued my strength. You valued my protection. You gave me purpose. You gave me drive. You loved my arms because they made you feel safe. Is there a consolation for me now that you died in them? I’m glad that they were perhaps your last memory of me.
People say “You’re doing so well”, “You’re so strong”, but platitudes, as kind as they are, don’t align to my reality. Because “I” doesn’t make much sense without “you”. And strength and well being mean nothing apart from you.
And so, yes, I lost myself when I lost you. And no matter how much I search, there’s no finding. No matter how much I write, there’s no story. No matter how much I speak, there’s no bringing you back. I try, but my words have no power and my voice has no strength.
But I am not nothing. The pain tells me I’m not. It’s true that without love this suffering wouldn’t exist. But without love I would not have lived. And you gave me an experience of life that was beyond myself.
And, so, who was I? Well I know I was thankful. And despite my present pain I know I still am. Thankful for you. I’m just not the same without you.
