I still hurt, but nothing on the scale of those that had known her all of her life. And nothing on the scale of her family. My loss is a small blip on the emotional scale of losses but it was still big to me.
I've tried to make sense of why I was affected by a death of someone who I had only known for such a short period of time. My guess is that in the short years (I think it was from 2005 until 2012 - she was completely incapacitated by this year), we did so much together. In those short years, we rode through more states and miles than I can count.
We went through surgeries, deaths, loads of laughs and many arguments. It was if time somehow knew that our relationship was on a short track and that we needed to fit as much as possible in those years to last a lifetime. Yet still, I somehow expected more.
I thought I would still feel her presence. That I would be fortified by the fact that now, we could still ride together, we could go and see all the things that we still wanted to do - that I would be able to find the feet that I had lost so long ago when I got on that plane to the UK.
I think that is why I was listening so hard to try and hear Shelia. I wanted someone to be my ground, to be my support, to give me purpose. Since May of 2009, I've given up a career, graduated a child from college, another from high school and lost my best friend. And I see nothing that gives me the light I need to find my feet. I wanted Sheila to let me see. I was wrong. Shelia's dead. She is gone and I know that she is not going find me. I'm trying to make someone who is dead find me.
I also know, that is impossible. No one can "find me". That is something that lies within myself. I cannot pin my existence on "being" something other than what I become. For me, "being" was defined by another person: a child, a parent, a sibling, a coworker, a spouse, a friend, I have been depending upon someone else to define me. This realization is the first spark I have seen.
Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I am beginning to see a small light. Right now, that light is a bit like a distant star, it's flickers and ebbs in the night. It doesn't wink, it doesn't glitter, it just appears and disappears in a black night like a memory that you can't quite grasp. But, nonetheless, it is a light. And with luck, it will move from a spark, to a distant star, to flame, and to a fire. One that will light the ground up so much that I am able to see my feet.
No one is going to find me. My feet are already on the ground, I just need to move them and hope that the light will follow.
