A hard question . . .

[singerinthedark]

I've been thinking a lot lately about soul-mates. Here I am, 23 years old, and I have already found and lost my soul-mate. Most people spend their entire lives looking that other person. I am 23 years old and I have already had the love of my life - and it's over. I know that I'm really too young to say that, but Matt made me believe in fate and love at first sight. He taught me that there is a deeper knowledge that you can have of other people that goes beyond consciousness, beyond this life.

At the heart of the matter is this: People do find their soul-mate. However, outside of the occasional tragic novel, you rarely hear the stories of people who lose their soul-mate, and how they cope with such a huge loss. Moreover, the stories you do hear are all about people who lose their soul-mate much later in life. I am afraid that Matt's loss means that I have to cram all of life in now because I have reached the latter half of my life. Honestly, I know this is probably not true. I just hurt so much right now that it's hard to envision having a long, fulfilling life without Matthew. (And before those of you who know me worry too much, I start grief counceling on Monday.)

So now I ask this of anyone who stumbles across this entry who just might be able to answer this question - How do you move on when you lose someone so close it feels like a part of you died? I mean, is there life after losing a soul-mate?

I guess the hardest part of all of this is that, no matter how much I want it to sometimes, the world does not stop just because I lost Matt. I keep telling myself to breathe, to take it one moment at a time, but I could really use some reassurance right now. I need to know that there's something for me out there.

Comments

[kelsied.livejournal.com]

I know it's painful, especially when your loss is so recent. But I want say a few things, which may or may not make it any better.

1. You are 23 years old and have already found and lost a soul-mate. Please don't imagine that I in any way diminish what you and Matt shared. But the world is full of possibilities, and in 10, 20 or 70 years, who knows who else you may meet, or what you may share with them? Destiny is strange and unpredictable at the best of times -- but that can be for good, as easily as for ill. And what you find to love in someone 30 years from now may be very different, very unique, and equally as special as your relationship with Matt. It is not a question of replacement, but an acknowledgement of riches. There is SO MUCH in the world -- so many people worth knowing and loving, so many things worth doing and living... Why waste that opportunity?

2. Don't rush yourself. You are entitled to grieve, to whatever extent and in whatever manner you feel is necessary. It can take a long time, and you can have several false starts -- just as you start to feel better, something can shock you radically back into mourning in a way that is surprising and painful all over again. That's totally normal. As is crying. As is being mad. It took me years to get over my father's death -- I hear the five year mark is typically a hard one, which should tell you something. It can be helpful to read books on the subject -- they aren't always exactly on point, but it's helpful to see how other people experience grief, and I found it made me less likely to feel like I was going insane for going through a perfectly normal grieving process. You'd be amazed at the kind of things that are considered "textbook." Talking to people can also help -- counselors, support groups, friends... Throwing light on darkened corners has an astonishing way of chasing off shadows...

3. Of course there is something for you out there -- many somethings, in the form of family, friends, opportunity... so many many opportunities. Who knows what shape they will eventually take? But I've noticed that even when things don't go as I expect, they seem to go on well enough. And sometimes the experiences I've had on the unexpected paths have been the most valuable. I didn't intend to come to Davis, but I love it here... I never thought I'd be anywhere like where I am now, actually, but I wouldn't really change it, even if it was a too hellish journey getting here. I've been through too much and grown too much and learned too much to want to go back to... innocence, ignorance, shelteredness... there isn't a "right" word to describe it, except that ultimately, I am where I need to be, and have had the experiences I needed to have, to become a person I can respect and admire and feel proud of. And that's worth an awful lot to me.

Well. And you're still dealing with the enormity of it all. So maybe this won't stick, or maybe you'll have completely different experiences, and find totally different ways to cope. But this is where I am now, and what I had to teach myself to be able to go forward, for whatever it may be worth to you.

You have our caring and support, you know, which is the really key point. More than just ours, if the number of people at the wake was any indicator -- personally, I would guess that that number was a slight underestimate on the actual number of your supporters.

Blessings and good luck be with you...

--Kris