Walking into this house tonight, alone, was almost more than I could bear. I made it a few steps inside the door and dropped to my knees on the cold, checkered floor. My heart felt as though it was shattering into a million tiny pieces, scattering and blowing away. In the silence of the empty house, the only sounds you could hear were the strangled sobs as they tore themselves from my throat. When I finally raised my head, coughing, as I attempted to catch my breathe, all I could think was,"He's gone. He's really, really gone." This only brought in a wave of new tears and sad keening from deep down in my soul.
After another half hour spent gasping and crying on the floor, I crawled to our bedroom. I reached up and slowly pulled down on the handle, popping the door open with a loud creak. At first, it looked as it had early this morning when I stormed out of the house with you running behind me yelling at me to wait. As I gingerly climbed to my feet, legs shaking so much I thought they'd give out, all that was gone became crystal clear. The corner where your blue suitcase had rested against the wooden dresser for the last six months was empty. On top of the dresser, where your assortment of aftershaves, hair gels, and deodorants once sat was now bare, covered only with rings left from the moisture collected from the steam when you showered. I turned towards the closet, shocked, as I gazed into the inky blackness where your clothes used to hang, filling up the space with warmth and fuzziness, now cold and empty. The most disturbing sight, the one that drove your absence home more than anything, was the pillow still holding the indention from your head the night before, sitting cold and alone on our bed, on the side that you occupied every single night before now.
At that moment, the realization that you may not come back hit me like a tidal wave. The thought of never sleeping next to you, your gentle snores lulling me to sleep, took my breathe away. I had grown accustomed to feeling you against my back, warm limbs entangled under the cool sheets. Knowing that you would not be there tonight caused a sharp pain all the way down to my toes. I stumbled back and sat down heavily on your side of the bed.
I stared blankly into the room and began to wonder why you had gone. I knew things had been hard, me being the most difficult of those things, but I always had it in my head that there wasn’t anything I could do that would make you walk away. I was so wrong. It took this moment for me to realize that. How could I have been so utterly blinded by that shit? I stood there for a few moments trying to catch the breathe that had caught in my chest at the realization that I had pushed you right out the door. I pulled my knees up to my chest and put my head on them, sobbing, because I had totally ruined everything good in my life. There was nothing left for me to reach for and knowing that overwhelmed me to the point that when I closed my eyes there was nothing but blackness there. I sat there thinking and crying and trying to decide if there was anything to even claw my way back for. Sitting on the bed in that moment, I convinced myself that the answer was no, so I laid my head down on your pillow, rolled over, grabbed the bottle of Xanax I had gotten from my friend on my way home, opened it, tilted my head back, emptied the small yellow bars into my mouth and swallowed. Then I relaxed and closed my eyes, picturing us under the stars in the park, soft music coming from the Bluetooth speaker, and you, holding me and swaying to the music. I was determined to go into oblivion with that memory in my head. I love you. I always will. Don’t ever, ever forget that.