A little more than a month ago I found out that my first love, best friend, and soulmate passed away. It was unexpected. He was 32. He died kayaking down a river – doing what he loved.
Since February 16th it’s like my world has been blown apart. I’m floating. All the pieces of myself are moving upwards and outwards. Blank pieces. White canvas.
There''s a quote by J.R.R Tolkien that I have carried with me for a long time that says, "Not all those who wander are lost." But for the first time, I am wandering without direction. Trying to think about what I want to paint on this blank canvas that is now my life. All that was before is no longer. From the external to internal with one gut-wrenching sentence, I fell.
Daily I think about him. When we met at 18. The first time we kissed. The conversations we’d have late into the night. The travels we took together. How we grew up with one another. I sit on my terraza in Madrid and look out over the red tiled roofs and think of when he came to visit me. We roamed the streets, stopping in little alleyways to fall in love. I try to write down every memory as it comes to me so I don’t lose anything. I try to feel normal again, but have no energy for activities that would attempt to bring back a sense of normalcy.
Right now, this is where I need to be. In my thoughts, traveling around my insides to figure out how to accept what has happened. I’m overwhelmed by the journey of loss - the up and down – rollercoaster and merry-go-round of emotion. Where do you put it all?
I cry. I hurt. I feel nothing. I hurt. I sleep. I have no energy. I am existing. I am not anywhere but here, lost, wandering a blank canvas until something appears.