This Would Be Easier if You Sucked
January 2023
In your absence, it’s a horrible curse that you were so wonderful. And as bizarre a thing as this might be to say, anymore I wish that you hadn’t been. At numerous points over the last year, I have attempted to focus on the negatives of our relationship, thinking that it might make missing you easier. Because despite what most of my writings depict, our relationship wasn’t perfect. I’ve been so desperate to feel better about losing you, I’ve repeatedly tried to hone in on the chinks in our relationship armor.
Unfortunately, I could never get any real traction with any of it, because you were one of the most marvelous humans I’ve ever known. And that’s not like that bullshit you see in interviews when people try to shoehorn somebody into sainthood just because they’ve recently passed. No, you weren’t perfect, of course. But you were in fact a radiant soul who meant so much to so many. And as a trauma/crisis counselor for kids, you were essentially “doing the Lord’s work” in many ways. Even though you’d have killed me for saying something like that.
Still, I searched through my mental Rolodex for something to be upset with or legitimately mad at you about in order to lighten this load. I wanted to feel like somehow there might be a detectable silver lining to starting over. I wanted, as horrible as it may sound, to think that in any way, shape, or form, there would someday be some good to being on my own again. It never worked, though. Only made me frustrated and somehow sadder.
Oh, you know what? You used to occasionally say that we were going to die in spectacular fashion. Damn it, honey, why would you say some shit like that? Also, is it now my curse to wait for that other shoe to drop? I guess I could get pissed off at you for that one. So thanks, maybe?
Nope. Still no good. This would be so much easier if you sucked.
All good thoughts, my friend. Wonderful writing. I've thought the same thing many times in relation to my late wife, Denise. She wasn't perfect either, but then no one is perfect. And damn was she beautiful, wrong or right, good, bad, angry, sad. Indifferent, even. I just loved her, that's all. And like you, I've also noted the imperfect parts of our relationship in order to lessen the pain of losing her, as if saying to myself, you see, she wasn't THAT good. But she was, actually. Such thoughts were like trying to cover a cannonball-sized wound with a BandAid. Never worked, never would've worked.
She’s a bad ass angel