What am I doing Kaitlyn? What am I trying to do by my endless blogs about you, the photo albums, the posts on Facebook, the printed out version of my blog, the printed out comments by your friends after you died on your Facebook, in my private messages and by email, the posts I made on Student Doctor Network warning them of what could so easily happen if they don’t heed the warning within them of depression, for posting about you In the off topic sections of forums I belong to that are about motorcycles, RVing, and cats. Posting on suicide survivor forums. Posting every video and song that remotely has to do with what you were and I am going through. Making DVD slides of you. Going through all you music CDs, going through all your recent things, old things, things I put up long ago, things that are newer, cards, diaries, pictures of you all over the place, things that belong to you all over the place. What am I doing?
Is it to commentate your memory, to tell the world what a wonderful person you were and the needlessness and horrendousness of your loss, how it has ruined my life and thrust me into some world I know nothing about. Or am I simply trying to keep you alive? As much as I try I try to put the pieces of you back together and as soon as I get two pieces stuck together good the others fall away. I can’t get you back and I try so hard. Memories are wonderful, but it’s a poor substitute for the real you that I could grab ahold of and love.
So what am I doing? I’m haunted by your memory, I live in a house of ghosts, but yet I don’t want to let go of your memory, and I don’t mind your ghost if that’s all I have. My house surrounded by the symbols of your goals and dreams seem to be lying on the floor taunting me, snickering at me telling me that they will never be. The horror of the worst thing that could ever happen, happened. I love other people, but you and Stephanie are my world and your very being is seared into my soul. Losing either of you would have killed me I thought. And I have lost you and I’m surely dying piece by piece. I don’t know how to endure it. Nothing will leave me alone. My mind that has always served me well so many times in that it is very reflective, sensitive, and inquisitive and forever trying to understand is torturing me by those very things.
What am I doing? Am I going mad? It wouldn’t be hard to do. Am I just trying to keep your memory alive, or am I trying to keep YOU alive? You are gone. The realization of that taunts me, slaps me down, haunts me, tortures me no matter what I do or where I go. I went to South Dakota 2 months after you died, you were there, everywhere. I try to do things and the sadness of you being gone and the circumstances of it eat away at me with each thing I do or I don’t do. I need to get out and go back to some kind of job, but I can’t. I think I would be even more depressed if I do because I tend to get depressed if too stressed and the thought of learning something new is just unbearable.
So what am I doing? I don’t want to ever forget you, your memories are too sweet, too wonderful, you were too great to ever forget, but what am I doing?
I look across the field when I’m outside hoping I will see an image of you, even if it’s my imagination. I look for the dragonflies that to me represent your spirit, and they do come. I look for your black car. But you don’t come Kaitlyn, you are gone.
What do I do? Where do I go? How do I get out of the utter despair I am left here with?
So I try to keep you alive but I can’t. I still smell your scent in the spare bedroom. Please don’t ever leave Kaitlyn. Please let that scent last forever, it’s all I have.