Casual about death

The other day it occurred to me that some people may think I speak too casually about Ryan’s death. If they were especially close to him they might be really bothered by this, and maybe that’s what went wrong years ago between some of his friends and me. 

But what they can’t understand is the difference between losing a friend you see sometimes, and losing the person your whole life is with.

What they may not understand is that when you lose the person your whole life revolves around, your entire perceived future is on fire, and you must rebuild from scratch. It’s a fact that he’s not coming back and I’ve been trying to come to terms with that fact for years. I’ve tried everything, and I’m 98 percent sure I’ll never see him again, so I must speak with conviction. I must say it often, and use the word died, killed, deceased, dead. 

I’ve willed him to life with all my heart for years. Even now, even with a new life I often try.

And so far he hasn’t come back. 

Everyday I’m moved by the sneakiness that is grief. I’m starting to think my brain will never fully understand.

So perhaps I’m not trying to tell you he’s dead, I’m trying to tell my poor brain. Maybe that’s the complexity of grief, your brain has the ability to do so many things, but it can’t understand how someone can simply no longer exist.