My heart has been hurting these last few days as I swing wildly from ecstatic freedom down to the depths of mourning frequently now.  None of it is debilitating but all of it is uncomfortable.  I loved him too much, because that’s the only way I know how to love, truthfully.  It’s become obvious that I loved him far more than he loved me.  S**t, I loved him more than I loved myself or I would’ve been gone long ago.  I’m stuck in the “why’s” again.  Like that’s any of my business.  Many opportunities were given to do the right thing.  None were accepted, so here we are.  Today I miss him.  We’ve all missed him for over a year.  We’ve grown used to the type of longing that feels strangely similar to the feelings I’ve had for the one’s I love that i left behind when we moved away.  There is hope in that loneliness.  We grew accustomed to it.  They still live in that illusion because I’ve padded the truth, as usual.  I’ve explained things, as I have always done, in a way they can accept and understand.  They don’t suffer.  Today that agony is mine.  I miss him.  I miss that stupid throat noise he made when he was over joyed as he grabbed one of us and held us closely to his chest.  I miss the warmth in that chest. I miss the soft heart held within it.  I miss the thoughtful acts.  Like the surprise trips to the bookstore before taking me to a movie.  I miss how he’d make me laugh while I tried hard to be angry.  I miss him dancing like an idiot just to make me smile.  If he’d always been my monster, I never would have loved him but now he’s the creature that only lives in my nightly nightmares. I miss him more when I wake up sweating and crying, looking for his arms to hold me.  I won the battles that caused the fear and am fairly certain I’ll win the war but damn do I hate doing it. I hate what has to be done but I’ll never hate him, or them.  The cold shoulders and silent stares are painful, true. I loved all of them too much.  I always will because that’s who I am.  I’ve only ever had the capacity to hate myself. I’ll continue to show them this love even as it goes unrequited because I know no other way.  In my opinion, the point of loving someone isn’t to gain anything, not one thing at all, but to show the one receiving that love how worthy they are of it all. I’ve finally come to a point in my life where I actually love myself.  I love myself enough to know I don’t need everyone else to.  But, some days it hurts to know that he probably never looked in through the window at me teary eyed because of the gratitude he felt for having me like I’ve done so many times. It hurts to know that he’s gone forever. Like Mom. Like Uncle Roger. Uncle Loran. Aunt Shannon. All gone within the last 4 years. I’ve become a professional griever. I’m going to make it through this.  I have to move forward though he stands still as stone.  Trapped in a tortured statue. Encased and suffocating, surrounded by thick and heavy concrete made up of all of the deadly sins. He’s gone forever and I’ll miss him everyday, but he’s not him anymore.