for tee one

I’ve done so much shit and still have so much shit to do, but I’m doing it. I’m doing those things that I talked to Bo about doing.

After much discussion with my therapist, I had made a plan last September and got started. Bo and I talked about it extensively in October on the last day that I saw Him. I was implementing another step in my plan as He got in that accident, laid in the hospital, and then died. I was having small successes, and then my life fell apart, as it so often did in the past.

Bo had been key to uplifting me so that there were lucid moments amidst my depression. That’s how I was able to get started with the plan. My therapist had given me the idea a year prior to that but the depression continued to drown me. When Bo entered, I didn’t even need my therapist anymore. I stopped seeing her for several months while I was experiencing life with Him.

I stopped seeing my therapist again this year, around the same time that I did last year: April. This time there is no Bo.

I just started seeing her again about a week ago. The trigger is the work year beginning again. I was deathly afraid she’d mention Him though I wasn’t there to talk about Him. She did. I could barely look her in the face after she spoke His name. I fiddled with my hands and began to feel nervous. Maybe that’s why I stopped seeing her several months ago. Maybe I had unloaded everything and now felt like she was a reminder of what was bad. They say that happens sometimes when you tell people bad things. You avoid them. She knows too much.

I don’t have Bo to share today with, or tomorrow, or last week. Maybe I shouldn’t skip counseling anymore. I have much to sort out and it’s clogging my brain.

As I travel through stretches of Florida that I’ve never seen, I see acres of grass and country dwellings —houses that Bo would have loved…places that would have reminded Him of home: Oregon. I envision Us both happy and isolated from the perils of life.

41 weeks.

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