deep love/grief ocean

i'm swimming.  barely.  but finally i've been able to take a breath.

i still can't really admit to myself that tobias is dead. when i talk about him, i use confusing verbs so that it is not clear that his physical form is no longer walking around on this earth.  i say things like "he was living in london," "we've been dating for 3 years." my mouth just can't form the words that actively refer to him in the past tense. (and so, dear reader, please accept some occasional present tense verbs.) 

my metaphor for my grief is one of an ocean--the waves beating me down and holding me under for days at a time.  and then there's a moment where the waves subside and i swim up.  i breathe.  i feel the sun.  i even float for a moment, wondering how i could have forgotten that this was even possible for me.  and then, in a second, without warning, i'm slipping back under. or i'm pulled by an undertow, and, even though it's scary, by now it's familiar.  and something about that feels comforting as i am pulled back under.  i think "i knew it was too good to be true, that i could be coming out from under this overwhelm."  and, simultaneously i know that i don't actually want to come out from under it--some days i choose to dive into the depths of my grief.  because i don't want to forget tobias or his love in my life.  i don't want to be "all better" because that might mean that i can't feel his presence here with me any longer.  

in the days when i hadn't heard from him and hadn't heard confirmation of what had happened to him yet (i know, i know, vague language here), i felt him with me so strongly. and in the days following, i continued to feel him around me, especially when i was moving energy through dance. and my fear of losing that became so intense. i felt like if i acknowledged the reality of the situation, the feeling of him dancing and twirling around with me would dissolve. my therapist suggested that i could ask him if he was planning to leave. and when i asked him, he laughed, "babes! i know how strong your fear of abandonment is! i would never!" 

summer, 2019

and it's true. he wouldn't. we have a beautiful story. our first date at disney world; the cross-atlantic love that stayed alive over distance and pandemics; the concerts, museums, theme parks, and shows that we went to; our hours-long internet dates; our shared love for tragic american chain restaurants; how he listened to every episode of my podcast and then wanted to talk about them; and his amazing ability to support me objectively and compassionately at every turn. 

when i went to tobias in tears, i would ask "do you have capacity to listen to what's upsetting me right now?" which he had taught me, through modelling: his operationalization of consent was beautiful to learn from. and, somehow, he always was able to make room for me. whether he was with other partners or friends, or whether it was in the middle of the night for him, he would give me non-judgemental, inclusive, and gentle advice about a colleague or a partner or a friend. and i never wanted to defy his advice, because it was so honest, from the heart, and always in my best interest. i feel like i don't know how to live in the world without this; his love is the most un-selfish i've ever experienced.  

and so how do i move on without his support? how do i focus enough to accomplish anything efficiently --ever again? a colleague recently suggested that i focus on doing the work that he could help me with--that i could ask his energy/spirit to collaborate with me. and so, today, i asked him to help me write something.  to help support my processing, as he always would.

so i'm trusting tobias. i'm trusting my network. (i'm so grateful for all the people in my life who have supported and continue to support my grief.) and i keep searching for the help i know he is still offering me. i search, i ask, i cry, i wait. and occasionally the universe serves me little nuggets of magic.  a recent radiolab episode played tape of a man that lost his fiance at a young age; he was lamenting his lost future with his partner.  some words that he received that resonated with me were:

"...grief is a form of praise. you are praising the wonder of the person you lost. the great pain you are feeling means great love." 

and wow is my love/pain great. 

i have this text convo with him from when one of his close friends committed suicide in late 2018. he said to me: "I just realised that like any of us could die and people would be sad for a few days and then forget we even existed. And our friends would talk and phone for a few days and it would bring them together and then they would go back to normal life." i responded "your actions and words have ripples throughout the world. the world is forever changed because you're in it." and god. i just want tobias to know how untrue his words were.  

i am changed because of you, tobias. i am better because of your support and love. and that lives on in me: in my relationships, in my work, in my podcast, and obviously in my wardrobe of disney paraphernalia.  i promise to never forget you. 

and i promise to try to keep swimming, even on the days where diving under the water feels easier or safer.