“I know without a doubt, I will be there when you meet your end.”

Heather looked me straight in the eye when she said that and I felt the air shake. It was in the early months of our relationship. It has a completely different context now.

Gnostics, dual-slits, Max Planck, flatworms, whirlpools, eleven dimensions, and random number generators. “There are no atheists in foxholes,” and the foxhole I’ve been in over the last year has been so very dark and deep. I would have counted myself more in the materialist camp before my reality exploded, and now it isn’t my imagination has taken over, it is I pity those with no imagination. Believing in only what we can hold is a very small port-hole to look out of.

I faced the fire of the last year without alcohol or drugs. I selected a therapist out of an online line-up not by his qualifications but by the appearance of a bearded lumberjack, he could kick my ass, and kick my ass he did. I scattered Heather’s ashes in her favorite places and where we were supposed to be together. I drove across the country with the dog to celebrate Marlo & Leta at their camp in New Jersey. I found a tribe of people who have lost their partners and loved ones in awful and unexpected ways. Our loss informs us as we prop each other up. I meditated daily and started reconstituting myself from the inside out.

I am still here.

“You are half of me, and when I cause you pain I feel it on this side, over here, the other half of you.” – Heather, January 10th, 2019.

I am still here.

She comes to me in dreams and shows me signs. She is unburdened of the drugs, the alcohol, the depression, and the genetics. I miss the **** out of her, but my life goes on in wondrous and amazing ways. She wants me to live and be happy. She will be there when I meet my end.