365 days. 525,600 minutes. 

Since I had my very heart ripped out in the cold, ascetic hallway of a hospital....as the love of my life's heart stopped beating. 

Crumbling on the cold linoleum floor, begging my mom, over the phone, to make it stop. 

Holding his hand, as the cold crept up his arm, no matter how much I tried to warm it. 

I sat on the plane, trying to compose my thoughts-- what on earth I would say to his grave, a year later. 

And all I could think of was what would happen while I was there again...where he grew up. 

All the places I've seen, all the people I've met-- his places, his people. 

I wanted him to introduce me, to narrate. I wanted to understand him, to see where he came from. And I HAVE, but not in the way I wanted to.

I had silly, girlish fantasies about getting all the stupid stories about the people in his high school yearbook, but I had to read it by myself. 

About watching him blush as his mom showed me his baby pictures, but I held the albums on my lap by myself. 

About having him walk me around his high school campus and his haunts and his neighborhood, but I drove by them by myself. 

About having his arm around me at the bar while he defended his 8.0 second title, but I only heard stories from eyewitnesses. 

About chatting with the girls while he rough-housed with his boys, but I mingled amongst them alone. 

About having him show me off and assert I would be part of the family, but I had to just hope that I would do ok on my own. 

Silly, girlish fantasies about the life we would have had together. Because I wanted him to be in my life forever. I saw my future in his eyes. 

And the weird part is: I can still see that life. I still want that life. His mama loves me, his friends include and like me, I have officially inserted myself into his home-life. 

So, the horribly tragic part it: He isn't here to make that life with. 

I went on a 'date' with his mama and then we laid on the couch and watched "White Christmas", I actually drank beer with his friends and had a blast pretending to be a Jagz fan, I kissed his grandmom on the cheek after she made me breakfast. And I drank in how my life COULD have been.

I slept in his bed. 

God damn it, he was supposed to be there. 

I can't decide if I'm doing something good or something incredibly masochistic by being so involved.

But I needed to read verses to his grave about how God will make all things new, and death will be swallowed up in victory. 

And I needed to try to offer some comfort to his best friends by telling them how He is a God who will never give us more than we can handle. 

And I needed to sing of how "still the ear of sovereign grace attends the mourner's prayer" to his name etched in cold marble. 

And I needed to remember that day, with the person who experienced it with me-- my mama-in-love. 

I found out that his voicemail greeting was reconnected, and I was able to call it. It was the first time I had heard his voice in a year.....and I immediately burst into hysterical tears. 

I've spent a whole year without his voice, his eyes, his hands, his chest, his arms, his laugh, his lips on mine. 

And it's the weirdest thing....but I think I'm more ok than I thought I would be. Yes, I'm broken and I cry and it hurts with every single breath. 

But, I was a little more together than I thought I would be. I feel a little bit more like my old self, who didn't have a nervous breakdown at every turn.  

Which makes me think that God is a God of process. And of "when we least expect it." 

The pain does not disappear, but it does become less immediate. The loss does not dissipate, but it doesn't knock the wind out of me anymore. I don't love him any less, but I am (I hope and pray) beginning to unclinch my fingers from his memory and look forward. 

I think that I will take the pictures down soon. 

Because I can't keep wishing to live in a life that will never be. 

So, now, when I think of him, I tell him that "my soul sends your soul love and light." And I ask God to fill the hole that John left in my heart with Himself. Because I want every part of myself to be filled with Him. 

Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot remove. I believe that.

I tread no path in life to Him unknown, I lift no burden, bear no pain alone. I believe that.

Behold, I am making all things new. I believe that. 

I trust, in the Love greater than anything. 

(P.S. I was also clued into some of the politics of his social circle--which apparently included some of his ex-es. We never talked about his ex-es, but I got some clues that he had some "shitty girlfriends" in the past. I left it at that. But, two of them were there yesterday, at the bar. One of them I met last year, who I thought was just a friend. I was later told that she isn't someone that I should be friends with. AND THEN, this little redhead (ironically) walks over to Mama and starts chatting her up for too long. She introduced herself to me, briefly, and hugged me, told that me that is was an honor to meet me. I had no idea, so I was nice and gracious and sweet. It was probably for the best that I didn't know. As soon as she left, all John's "sisters" simultaneously said, "God, I HATE her." Apparently, she was John's ex, who manipulated his affection for her to her own advantage. Now, being the considerate, loving, affectionate man that he was-- I can definitely see how he could be taken advantage of by someone who didn't love him like he deserved. I heard some stories about her....and I'll be honest...I've never been a violent person.....but I wanted to rip her fucking face off. Mama later told me that she has asked if I was his cousin. HA! Mama told her that I was his fiancee, and she was surprised that there had been someone after her. Laughable! So, that bitch knew who I was when she hugged me. How dare she? She thought that he pined over her til the end of his days? I have news for her. I was the love of his life-- the woman he wanted to marry. And I am PROUD that he loved me til the moment he left this earth. How DARE she come up to me and give me some fake shit about how it's "an honor to meet me" and pretend like she was a friend of his? I will snap her in half like a fucking twig!!!! You hurt and take advantage of the man I love and I will snap you in half.    

Sometimes, when he would accidentally mess something up or make a misstep, he would seem like he was waiting for me to turn into Medusa and eat him alive. He never did anything even remotely worthy my being furious with him-- so I know that he was scarred from whatever bitch had gotten to him before me. If you love someone, you build them up and respect them and encourage them and cherish their affection-- you do NOT take advantage of them and manipulate them. She did that to the best man I've ever know, the man I loved.....and I wanted to rip her face off when I found out.)

In a world of mediocre apathy,

I'm holding out for someone who manages to efface the memory of the dead. 

Because settling for anything less would dishonor that very memory. 

I can, specifically, recall the last four Independence Day holidays of my adult life. 

2007-- I watched the fireworks through my rearview mirror -- wallowing in self pity from a day of beachy sun-drenched awkwardness and being ignored by those I shouldn't have cared about anyway. Not an incredible day. 

2008- I watched some attempted fireworks after a slightly soggy show at the STNJ outdoor stage-- snacking on Whole Foods delicacies. I remember enjoying the people I was with and having some good conversation. 

2009-- I was watching the fireworks from the westside 20-some-odd floor penthouse apartment of a casual acquaintance, who was nice but not lasting. I craned my head to get a good angle out of the floor-to-ceiling windows as the man I loved nervously tried to keep me from falling. That's my biggest image of that night-- John holding my hand as we watched those fireworks. I don't remember anything truly bad about that night. 

2010-- I spent most of the day recovering from the party I threw the night before, went to the late church service, and then met my roommate at the roof party of one of her friends (oddly close to the place I'd been the year before). A bottle of wine, some not-altogether-unfamiliar people, and then late-night 'Jameson on the rocks' made for a somewhat hipster but enjoyable holiday. 

I really just miss having "my person." I miss having someone who was....attached to me, for lack of a better descriptor. Someone who was definitely going to be where I was, who was my guarantee that, even if I just laid around at home, was my guaranteed guard against being alone. My person. 

I have many different people in my life. I can probably find plans, or find companionship, or find social arenas in different places, if I want them enough. 

But, I miss having my other half. The person who wanted to be with me, and who I wanted to be with, no matter where we were going. 

I suppose that's why God created relationships. Because we aren't meant to do this alone. 

And I know that he's having the best holiday ever. That thought comforts me. Because I'm ok, I really am. And I know that he is too.