Carleton,
I went to the LGBT Center Gala last night. The one you and I had hoped to attend together. It was a festive night. Everyone asked how I was doing. I told them I was okay. Yet, every now and again, I noticed someone watching me to make sure I was. There are pictures from it. You would have said I was handsome. I wish you had been there. I helped sponsor a table and promised Delores that I was still raising money in your name to assist other young men with support services. The Carleton Cannon Memorial Fund has raised over $1,500 for services to men like you.
It has been two months since the day when you and I made the decision that you would surrender and depart this world. I did get angry I didn't get more time that day just to hug you, but you took me at my word and worked so hard to encourage others that day. While angry I did not get more time, I was proud of how you faced your end. I can only hope that I will be so brave.
Your brother reached out to me last week, your mother a couple weeks before that. I have checked in with Sean and with your Aunt. My office watches me. Rene stops by nearly every day. The first two weeks were debilitating. The weeks following were frustratingly hindered with shadows of regret, loneliness, frustration, and the pain.
The GSDBA board is just relieved my brain started functioning two weeks back after the grief hiatus. At least I can function in leadership capacities again for my volunteer work and for my clients as well.
You know I am not incapacitated, but every day there is always something that reminds me that you are not here, that you died, that I must face that reality. I returned a few weeks ago from Palm Springs. It was shocking to realize that I expected to see you as I opened the door to the apartment, as I have done so many other times. I simply was stunned as it seemed voices in my head were in shock and just then realized you were gone, for good. Even a trip to the grocery store impacted the loss. Small and big thing cause me to pause, think of you, grieve, tear up, stop a moment, before I push forward. Whether it is forgetting the mail you always picked up, the notes left different place, your hand writing, or the last two voice mails on my phone I cannot erase yet.
While it has been two months, at times it seems so much longer. Perhaps that is how it feels to be tortured. It is daily, yet the moments stand still as we become stuck in those individual seconds in that moment. And, with each of those seconds, it takes energy and strength to move past them to return to the present.
At times, it feels like it was just yesterday that we sat around and laughed, walked, and worried. I just changed the sheets on the bed. I have only your things in the wallet to go through. It lies on the table in the bedroom. Truly, I am unable to go through it. I wonder how long it will be before I address it. I have photos for your Dad and Mom to deliver. I still need to shut off your phone number. I can't bring myself to use your phone for some reason even though it performs way better than mine. I can't even bring myself to watch Elementary or NCIS Los Angeles, because we always promised to watch it together. Silly, I know. But, we did keep our promises.
The last two months have been easier and harder than I ever imagined. Thank you for communicating to others that you worried I would not do well without you. It made me laugh, but made them respond. Both reactions I welcomed and it has been helpful.
I wish you were still here. But, with the amount of pain you had, the struggles we had in the last 6 months, I would continue to make the same decision we made together August 20th. And, I am glad your mom, Linda, made it with us.
Peace, my love, enjoy the new time you can spend with your grandpa. I know he was the first face you saw after God. Though, I fear my Dad may have been the second.
I miss you and so do your friends and family. We will not fill the space you created in our hearts. So we do what we can to live with that space, stirring those memories so that the space in that emptiness does not become stale.
Peace,
Eric
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