December 15th, 2011

In some ways, I’ve gotten used to being alone.

I’ve gotten used to not having you next to me all the time. I’ve gotten used to having that empty space in our bed. I’ve gotten used to the sound of silence when I’m in our apartment by myself. I’ve gotten used to not going into the back room to put your stuff away, because there isn’t any stuff to put away. I’ve gotten used to driving everywhere by myself and putting the dishes away by myself and going to sleep by myself.

I no longer expect to wake up and see your face when I open my eyes. I no longer expect to feel your arms around me when I’m cooking in the kitchen. I no longer expect to turn around and see you sitting on the couch, smiling at me. I no longer expect to hear your voice when I get home.

There are shadows and whispers of your existence - your shampoo and body wash haven’t moved in months and your pile of dirty clothes still lays in the same place as before. It seems like nothing has changed… Except, everything has. The sounds you used to make, the sounds that helped breathe life into our little apartment, have faded and in their place is the thundering sound of silence.

There is nothing.

No quiet sound of your breathing as you sleep, no echo of your laughter from the living room, no soft words of love before I go to sleep. There are no sounds of you anymore. I am living, existing, being, in a place that has no other sounds but ones I make. It’s like… you’re a ghost. Everything around me screams your name and reminds me that you are real, not a figment of my imagination; I am alone and yet you are always there with me.

I’ve gotten used to waiting for phone calls and Skype dates. I’ve learned how to push through the hard days when no one is there to listen to my cries. I’ve learned that being strong is both overrated and misunderstood. I’ve learned that I’m not always allowed to mope. I’ve learned that I am able to do so much more without you here than I thought I was. I’ve learned how to sleep, alone, in a bed too big for one. I’ve learned so many things.

But mostly, I’ve learned that I love you more than I ever thought a person could.

Being alone hurts. I resent the silence that surrounds me, but the silence also makes me a promise that this is only temporary. One day the thundering silence will give way to your beautiful laughter, and we will fill our house with our voices and our love. Being alone right now means that one day I won’t be alone anymore. The loneliness, the long nights, the tears, the frustration, the independence, the love, the strength, the experience, the anguish… I’ve learned to love it all, because all those things will somehow bring me back to you.

So, until the day you come home to me, I’ll stay in this silence… And I’ll learn to love that, too.