David and I sometimes talk about what would happen if he was gone. I don’t like these conversations but they help. We talk about selling the house, about finances, about where I’d go and what I’d do. About the possibility of me eventually being with someone else, and about how I hope that David could still be a part of my life if I ever get there. About how I’d never let him go.
I once told David he would have it ‘easier’ than me, he wouldn’t have to live without the person he loved, wouldn’t have to continue, wouldn’t have to move on, be lonely. Be alone. His response. “But you get to live. You get to have a life. For me it ends, it’s over.” His response making me feel guilty for thinking dying would be easier than life without him.
So now I try. Every time I see the ocean, walk in a forest, watch the sun rise, hear a storm pelt rain and wind at the house - every time I smile or laugh or play with the dog, I try to think about what he said. And I get it. I know what he means. These moments are life and it’s worth fighting for. And so I continue knowing that no matter what happens, I’ll be okay – that I will still get to have those moments. Still get to smile and maybe even laugh. I’m alive. And right now, as I watch him.... catch a wave on his surf board, bask in the sun, sip his coffee, get excited about science and research and teaching... I realize he is too, more than ever.
