four t

abeni doula
Aug 8, 2017 · 4 min read

This means that there are only two months left until it has been a year. How did this happen?

I fear a year just like I fear my birthday and the birthday of a loved one whose date is the marker. How will I get through it?

Forty weeks seemed like there were about 14 days in this one week — so much done, so much to do. How am I doing it?

Ten months is a good round number — a big number. Why is it here so fast?

Forty weeks is the culmination of that pregnancy that could’ve been but thank goodness it wasn’t, although technically, it would have been over before now. I’m not sure I could think of a worse situation had it happened. Nah, surely I can. The strangest things happen to me. Why me?

I went to St. Pete again. Daytime only, still. I held my breath in panic and scanned the streets out the window like a dog as old lover drove me around. I hoped not to see the church where His memorial was held. I don’t know St. Pete well, but I do have a photographic memory that fucks with me along with paralyzing anxiety. Why didn’t I freeze up?

I have flashes of the street made of bricks on which my heels kept catching as I was dragging my feet to get to the doors of the church that Saturday, October 29th, 2016. I was holding my breath then, too, scared for my ankle to roll, my knees to buckle, to pass out, and hoping the menfolk on the street wouldn’t choose that time to try to holla.

As I lay in my bed at night, studying, staring at the wall, or getting ready to sleep, I remember each spot in which We united. Somehow, it was usually the same spot. When it was a different spot, something different happened, and of course, there is a story behind each one — stories which I am fumbling to write about but I recall with vivid imagery. When I go to sleep, I swear He is here or else how do I get so much good sleep when my mind continues to travel even when I am at rest?

At 10 months, I finally told someone at work only to learn that my boss’ mother died the year before Him, also in a car accident, but this one caused by a drunk driver…and that driver did go to jail. We spoke of how living through it is a hell of a journey, full of random triggers and break downs and even she had tears when I told her my story and I had tears but I didn’t let them spill even though it would have been okay. Is vulnerability at work a weakness?

It was nice to talk to someone who has experienced a loss involving a a car accident, as odd as that sounds. She understood everything from going to the scene of the accident to not wanting to travel in the area where memories were from not wanting to be in the town to face people that knew. How long can we avoid the seemingly unavoidable?

I still have a special place in my heart for widows and those who have lost their lovers. How do you sleep at night?

I have seen a picture of the speeding Mustang driver that killed Him and after all this time, I feel nothing for him and what He has done. I know even after forty weeks, I blame Bo for being out working when I swear He didn’t have to do so on that day and at that time. And I still blame me for not asking Him earlier that day what was wrong, and for not even attempting to alter the course of events, because, you know, I have magical powers and shit. Will I ever stop believing that events could have proceeded differently?

Forty is an age He’ll never get to be. Just like 39. But He was so close. Damn it, Love. This isn’t how I envisioned forever.

Full moon tonight.

_______________________

The following stories are linked in the one above. It helps me to know where I’ve been and where I’m going.

abeni doula

Written by

I am hurting like hell over the sudden, tragic loss of a Man who had given me so much Life in recent months.

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