The Look of Grief

I've accepted that I now belong to an elite club. An organization with the strictest of requirements for entrance, yet a club that no one wants to belong to. Its kind of a "I lost the one I love" club. Believe me, no one wants in on this shit.

I was just watching TMZ and they interviewed Sean Combs. He thanked them on camera for being respectful as he and his family suffered from the loss of Kim Porter, although he declined to say her name. Gone was the flashy, over the top Puff Daddy we knew of the mid-90's. Something was missing, and I could see him trying to find it. I know that look and feeling, because I experience parts of it every waking moment of my life.
He'd been in the process of hiking and he took time to film and post the hills he'd been hiking on. When the cameraman asked him how he was holding up, he answered something along the lines of "day by day, minute by minute." Sean and his ex of 10 years, Cassie, had been rumored to be close to their final break up, and immediately after Kim's passing, she was by Sean's side, but lately she's been seen booed up elsewhere. I don't blame her, because I knew how I was immediately after Pete's passing as well. Well-intentioned (and some not-so-well-intentioned) men approached me constantly. And I was nice, but firm in my desire to be alone. I don't want your dick, I don't want you making me laugh, I want to be left the fuck alone. I know that feeling well. So I feel Sean. Other people may not have seen it, but I certainly did. I wanted so bad to hug him and say to him "I understand, take all the time you need."
In my time immediately after, I took to the mountains twice. I needed that so much. To simply be next to nature. Its amazing how being in the mountains you almost feel like you're stripping down, energetically raw. Nothing but you and your emotions, as you sort through all of these thoughts and feelings. Its almost like "if I can't be near the person I love and lost, let me just be in this moment with nature, since this is the closest I'll come to their spirit" I still look up at sunsets on occasion and feel like the light peeking through those clouds is a message from Pete.

A girlfriend recently hipped me to a male musician in Atlanta who has these banging ass house parties here in Atlanta. The man lost his partner over a decade ago, but I could feel his loneliness, his aching as he performed at a party. My friend swore to me that he wasn't lonely. She assured me that he's surrounded by women of his choosing and he lives this wild musician lifestyle, the ultimate bachelor.
She couldn't see it, but I could. Its amazing how you can spot it. How unspoken it is, this hurt, this longing. Trying your best to make sense of seeing a person, loving them, and being loved by them, then one day the Universe says "that's it, time to go." There is no arguing. No pleading. No complaint department. You just gotta deal with that shit. And it leaves you with a hole in your heart that you just wear, like an anchor. You spend, essentially the rest of your days looking for the part of your spirit that left with your loved one. You'll never get it back.

A few months ago, I played the lotto. I imagined what I'd do if I had $100m plus to blow. Anything I wanted, I could buy. The very first thing my mind wandered to wasn't fancy vacations, huge homes, fast cars. For a very split second, when I said "what would I have if I could have anything? I'd bring Pete back." It was a passing moment, and then I was sad again. When considering the one thing I wanted more than anything, the first thing that came to mind was something money can't buy. Even if I hit the lotto and had fancy boats and clothes, I'd still feel that same longing. When Kim died, that's how I knew Sean felt. $820m is what he's worth, and with all of that, the awards, the women, the cars, the trips, all of that, he'd never have back the woman he loved.
I remember when Caleb was a baby, there was an elderly woman who lived in the same building that I did. She'd always greet me and Caleb and ask our names and introduce herself. Her name was Ms. Pence. Her husband of 2 years had died when she was younger. I don't recall how, but I know that despite not remembering me or my son, she talked steadily about her husband. Honestly, I never got it, until now. She remembered those small details of her love and although she'd dated since then, none of them ever matched up, so she opted to remain alone. I feel her in that. After losing a person you love, anyone you're with seriously afterward has to be amazing, because you get to the point of choosing to be alone rather than settling for some wack shit. Either that, or you cling to whatever warm body will have you. And even then, you cling to the memory of the person you lost.
That was 11 years ago and Ms. Pence was older then, so I kind of hope that in that time, she made her way home to her departed husband.
So I'm in this club, the Lonely Hearts Club. My cross to bear. Such is life.