Another candle...

I did it.  I somehow braced myself for the inevitable but found that the birthday of "X," though a painful reminder, was survivable.  I don't really know how.  In the 18 months since his death, I have yet to have a day that I don't think of him.  I did things all day that I enjoy and kept me busy.  And yoga, in all of it's "karmic wisdom," worked really well for me.  When I felt a memory or emotion coming up, I felt it.  I was in the present.  I allowed that memory to take root in my self....and I smiled.

"X" was a really great guy.  Anyone that knew him would agree without blinking an eye.  I am the luckiest of all to have 10 years of memories with him; some good, some bad, some AMAZING.  But they are my memories.  And each one reminds me of the love we felt for each other.  Even at the end.

He was my best friend.  He is my best friend.  That void in my life has yet to be filled by a non-canine. But I can honestly say now, 18 months after the shatter, I have hope.  "X" would have wanted that.  He would have wanted my happiness; for Baxter to be spoiled rotten (he is); for the cat to hiss at every person that isn't me that comes into the apartment (she does).

I never fully understood why he broke up with me until after his death.  I still don't.  But from what I gather from friends, he thought he was holding me back.  I don't know what he was holding me back from - he was the reason I had wings.

Thankfully, because he taught me well, I found my wings again.  And I'm beginning to soar.  I will continue to miss him every day, most likely for the rest of my life.  But I will take that faith he had in me and the lessons of humanity he gave me and apply them.  I look to my future with hope.  Should the day come and I'm lucky enough to meet someone I marry, one chair will be left purposefully vacant.  He will be there with me, in spirit.  Smiling.  Probably calling me a "big ass."  But I imagine a moment, when I give my vows to the man standing across from me, that I look out in the audience, see "X," and he winks.

And I will always wink back.