He still haunts me....

I have managed to occupy my mind for the most part today. The tears, while still there (will they always be there? Will there ever come a day, I don’t cry? Sometimes I pray yes, others I pray no) have been few. The ache left by him that echoes with his silence is always present.

I made my bed today, (yes, I know, it doesn’t sound so remarkable, but when you consider it rarely gets made, it is remarkable) and I noticed that even still, I only sleep on half the bed. Batman only spent 3 nights here, in the 3 months we were together; he only slept here 3 nights. I spent more nights with him, (than I spent here actually) and yet, I still sleep on my side of the bed, leaving his side untouched. Do I hope he will someday come back and occupy that space that has been reserved for him? Or is it that I just can’t bring myself to reach over there, and feel his absence and be reminded yet again, that he no longer sleeps beside me?

A part of me wants to pack all of the reminders of him, away, and pretend that he doesn’t exist any more. The problem with that is that even though he would be out of sight, he would not be out of mind, or out of my heart or my soul.

The thing with Batman was that we were so alike. My passion was his passion, his was mine. We loved the same things; we shared the same opinion on so many things. He taught me so much about things I didn’t know, but that he loved and enjoyed. I did the same for him. We lived for Sunday’s when we could watch NASCAR in bed together; we watched The Cardinal’s play every night they were televised. We cheered for the same football teams. He taught me to like tennis and golf. He made watching them fun and entertaining. We would discuss cars, both muscle cars, and luxury cars. We discussed music, and our varied tastes in favorites. We shared a long list of people we believed were musical geniuses. We could argue our different points of view without hurting or disrespecting the other. We could talk about everything, anything, for hours at a time, and yet, we could also be together and not say a word and never feel the need to fill the silence with small idle chit chat.

Where I was emotional and quick to react to situations, he is calm and logical. Where I feel things with great intensity, he is laid back, and takes things in stride. He feels deeply the need to take care of those he cares about, doing everything in his power to help them when they need it. He encouraged me to take a stand, and change my future, make a better life for me and my children. He loved my kids almost as if they were his own. He stepped up and became a better father figure in their life than any they had had before. He loved deeply and completely. We both did. The difference is I still do. For a short time, I no longer had 3 kids, I had 5, and I took his kids into my heart as if they were my own. I love them still. I miss them terribly, and it breaks my heart to think I don’t know when I’ll ever see them again.

He told me one day, while he lay on the bed, watching me dress for the day, “I could never get tired of looking at your beautiful body. It’s amazing.” I truly felt beautiful that day, and for the first time in my entire life, was comfortable in my own skin. I remember the night he made love to me, and I saw in his eyes, exactly how he saw me, and I felt truly loved and truly beautiful and treasured. I finally was as beautiful as he had always told me I was.

My heart and soul belong to him, and they have since the day I laid eyes on him, and probably long before that day. They are no longer mine to give to anyone else. The truth of the matter is this, I no longer want anyone else. I will be with him, or I will be alone (and please god, let me end up with him, b/c if I end up alone, I know I will drive my family insane).

They say that when you meet the The One, you know, you just know. Faith Hill sings a song “You Belong” in which she sings... “There’s a voice inside… and I heard it promise me… when you came along, I’d know you by heart. Like a familiar song, every word is telling me that the time has finally come, and here you are…and I know for sure…Baby you belong. Baby you belong, nothing’s ever been so meant to be, never felt so right to me, every single part of me believes Baby you belong, baby you belong, there really is no mystery, I think every one can see that baby you belong with me.” I knew from the beginning. What hurts more, is that he knew too. He knew it, at the beginning, he felt it, he believed it, he told me, and he knew. I don’t know why he’s ignoring it now. But I know that at one time he felt exactly as much, as deep, and as truly as I do.

Blind faith? Maybe. My heart hasn’t let go, my soul refuses to admit defeat. He’s still connected to me in some way, I can’t explain it, except that I know when he wakes every morning, I know when he goes to sleep at night. I know when he is stressed about something, I know when he’s relaxed. My days are sprinkled with thoughts of him, I see him in front of me, and I know what he’s doing. I know when he feeds the horses, I know when he’s on the road to work. I know when he gets to work, I know when he gets home. I instinctively know every thing about his day.

My sister tells me I should move on, I should stop focusing so much time and energy and thoughts on him. I should do something nice for myself, take care of me. The problem with that is, that no matter what it is I would do for me, it would be something Batman and I would have done together. I should focus on something I like, but my passions were his. Every thing I like to do, well, we liked to do together. My photography became a part of our relationship. He learned to see life in Frames like I do. He saw beauty in everything, and now, when I look through my camera, I see life, not just with my eyes, my heart and my soul, I see with his as well. I taught him all I know about photography, and taught him to see life as I see it. I could take a country dirt road and see a picture. “Look, right there….” And he would see what I saw, the kids, walking down the road, side by side, walking away from the camera, all in black and white. I could see something, start to describe what I saw, and he would finish it for me, and would see with his heart and with his mind’s eye, exactly what my heart and mind’s eye saw.

My photography, my pictures of him, of his children, of our time together, they touch him, like they do me. The slideshow I made of Princess, it moved him to tears, like it did me. They were taken not just with my talent, but with my heart. They are not just pictures of his children, they are pictures of my love for his family. The love I felt, he feels when he sees them.

How can we be this connected, this meant to be, and still be this far apart? How can he totally get me, completely understand me, and yet, not hear my heart crying out for his? How can he shut every thing off and not ache and not hurt and not cry? How can he ignore his heart and his soul? How can I? The simple truth is, I can’t.