Songs from an Untamed Heart

March 7th is coming up. This year makes three years since I kissed Matt goodbye. It feels like a lifetime ago...

I was talking with Dearbhail and ribbin last night, saying how this is not my favorite time of year. As I was talking about dreading March 7th, I realized that it almost felt like an act at this point - like I was dreading something because I am supposed to dread it. I was anticipating being a wreck, but this year just doesn't phase me. Three years and a lifetime ago I was in love. And now:

Oh, goddess! I still miss him. Sometimes his place in my heart still aches from the loss. I don't think I'll ever really get over that ache, but I don't feel like I'm bleeding to death anymore. I don't feel like the void is going to swallow me up. There's just an empty place where Matt should physically be. In a way, with all the death I've lived through, my life is starting to resemble Swiss cheese - lots of holes where one would expect substance.

I like my Swiss cheese life. I have been fortunate to know and love many, many wonderful people. I will always miss those people, but I can't cry for them anymore. You can't miss what you haven't really lost.

I haven't lost him, but I'm not Matt's girl anymore. You can't cheat on the dead. Love is partially based on the instinctual urge to mate. It's gooey, corporeal, visceral stuff. It's blood and flesh and mingling fluids. Yes, that's right. I said mingling fluids. That's not to say you can't love the dead. I do love him, but it's not the same. I just can't live my life waiting for the wedding that never came, the life that died on the vine. I want to get out and try to find a piece of that visceral, gooey happiness again.

Watching "Practical Magic" last night, it struck me how much I have always related to the character Sally Owens. I saw myself in her long before Matt ever walked into my life. However, unlike Sally, I know that there's something else out there for me. He's the King of Swords. (Tarot geek, me? Nah!) He's the prince in a dream I had. He's the promise to be kept. Some days I am afraid that he's just the carrot dangled at me so that I'll keep going. Other days I'm just certain he's out there...

I'm not counting my eggs. I have no illusions that I need to grow a little more, let go a little more, and stretch a little more before we'll actually find each other.

So where to next? Well, I'm going to shred Matt's old robe. Then, I am going to work on coming to terms with the fact that I am an adult, and I get to figure out what that means to me. I'm going to figure out how to make sure that I'm taking care of my own needs so that I don't burn out as a new teacher. I am going to delve deeper into my spirituality, practice my energy work, and work on really getting a good barrier between me and the world that I can throw up at will. (I think this will help with the craziness of dealing with pre-teen angst.) And you know what? I am finally going to organize my CD collection so that it feels like all my stuff, not the stuff that was Matt's, the stuff that is mine, and the stuff that was ours. Oh yeah, and somewhere in the next couple months I'm buying a car.

It's going to be an interesting few months.

I am leaving early Tuesday morning for Miami, FL where I will be working for a few days at a conference. The organization is paying my travel, my room, a per diem for food, $15/hr for the days I work, and then I get three or so days to explore Miami. Yea! I return home on the 13th(ish - I probably won't get back to Davis until the 14th, as I'll probably crash at my parent's house overnight to readjust to west coast time).

I will hopefully be able to update everyone on my travels sometime during the week.

I had a rough week last week. The accident report came in. I only skimmed it, but some of the details were fairly upsetting. The only good thing that came out of it was the confirmation of what I was told already; Matt could not have avoided the accident. There were no lights on at that part of the freeway, and the car was still spinning in the middle lane when Matt hit it. He was thrown, and, now I just hope that he didn't know what hit him, because the two people who were helping him did not give statements to the police.

I need to go to bed and pack a little. Perhaps I'll write a bit more before I leave for Miami.

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.

Well, finals are over. Somehow I managed to finish my last final on 1 1/2 hours of sleep, and probably ace it. (Whew!) I also kept falling asleep during the final, but that's a story for another day.

It's been hard to get up in the morning. ( On Mourning )

I'm off to go do something with myself. Otherwise I'm going to sit here in the computer lab and start crying. (I'd rather cry at home... I have cats and people there to comfort me.)

I've been surfing the boards lately, looking at the entries of people who know Matt and I, and it is slowly dawning on me how many people had no clue that we were thinking about getting married. A lot of people are expressing their hurt about that...

I want our friends to know that Matt and I weren't trying to leave all of you out of this. We didn't say anything because, it wasn't public information yet. Matt had yet to "make a big deal about it," i.e. propose to me formally. (For the whole story, see my first entry.) Our parents didn't even know. (Matt's parents were pushing for it, though.)

When the accident happened, Matt's parents told the hospital that I was his fiancee because, it would be easier for me to have access to him. They knew that Matt intended to propose to me formally in the near future, they just had no idea that he had done so informally about two years ago. It was the easiest way to explain my relationship to Matt.

Matt was my life-partner. Whether we actually were engaged or married or whatever doesn't really matter to me. I think in some ways we both knew that one of us was going to leave early. I feel that's one of the reasons he and I became so close so quickly. Somehow in four years I have experienced a lifetime of love. I am grateful for that. And I am glad to have shared this period of my life with our mutual friends.

I am so sorry Matt and I didn't tell you all about this earlier. I just assumed that you all had figured it out, and Matt was way too good at keeping secrets.

So it's really friggin' late, and I should be at home studying for my eight o'clock final, but here I am in the computer lab typing yet another entry for livejournal. Go figure.

( Ramblings on Fate )

This is so hard. Everyday I see something cool that Matt would like, and I want to tell him about it. I say it out loud anyway, as he just might be around to hear it, but it's not the same. I can't kiss his skin, or rub his neck, or lie next to him in our bed and talk the cares, joys, and little wonders of the day into memory. And that sucks.

I keep telling myself that it was a blessing that I could be there to talk Matt through dying. I keep telling myself that my being there helped him to move on. I keep telling myself that he won't just hang around, or be stuck in limbo because he knows that I'll do all right. I hope all of that is true.

It's just that some moments in the day are much more beige without Matt to share them with. And some moments of the day are so much more beautiful for my understanding of how fragile, impermanent, and mutable the world really is. It pulls me in two directions; I find myself sad that the world is so much more dull and angry that I should feel that way because life is a beautiful thing.

I'll stop here before it gets far too late in the evening for me to get some actual studying done. I've been unable to focus, but I've got to keep my "C" in this class. I have to finish what I've started.

So, live journal was always one of those things that was funny, you know... Something you never thought you would get involved in. So, I guess I'm funny now. ;)

Monday morning I held my fiancee's hand as he died. Monday morning every plan, every idea, every notion I had turned out to be dead and false. Monday morning I lost my best friend, my love, and my soul-mate.

( Rambling on about Matt, Life, and Death )

Am I wrong to feel cheated? I have had more love and adventure in four years with Matt than many people have in 50 years of marriage. I feel like I've known him for a lifetime. So why should I feel so cheated?

It hurts so much. I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, hoping that some day I am granted the wisdom to know why this happened, or what lesson I am supposed to take from this. But for now, it just hurts.