At the start of October, 13 years ago, Martin and I became a couple. I say the start of October because that was roughly when we decided it was about time we were
"official", after quite a few months of messiness and on again, off again throughout the summer that is far too long to recount here and frankly is far more amusing in person- buy me a drink and ask, I'll give you the gory details...
Martin and I were incredibly different- where I am outspoken, he was reserved; where he adored sports, I'm happy snuggled into a chair with a book. He adored the hot weather where I'm definitely more of an autumn girl, and he was a neat freak compared to my general, 'organised chaos' approach to cleaning.
For all our differences, we were also incredibly similar in some ways. Both passionate and incredibly stubborn, we would often clash and struggle to see each other's point of view, but ultimately we adored each other so much that we would drift back together and continue on in our way.
He was my missing piece, but not in the way you'd believe. It wasn't a case of him being there made everything better. It was that with him I felt like I could be better, that things just became clearer and made more sense. He understood me in his way, and I did the same with him. We settled into life together, pushing and challenging each other, cheering our achievements and commiserating our losses. We had our routine with work, family, kids..... we'd chat throughout the day, eat dinner together at night, and then settle down, him with his playstation and me with work or anything else to keep me occupied whilst the sound of Tanks being blown up droned on in the background. It wasn't exciting, it wasn't spectacular, but it was ours, and that's what mattered.
This week, with it being our 'anniversary' of sorts, it's been particularly tough not having him here. I am surrounded by wonderful friends and family who have all given me incredible support, are always at the end of the phone and ready with a coffee or a hug when needed.
But this week, I've still felt alone. It's not for the want of company- I've chatted with friends across the globe, been out riding with friends, been busy with work.... and yet I'm still lonely. I'd give anything for him to walk in the door, grab a shower, even play that stupid fucking tank game before coming to bed and asking me to hug him.... oh, to hug him.
Theres a quote that says, "Loneliness is the absence of connection, not company," and ever since I lost Martin, I have been lonely in a way I can't begin to explain. A part of me is gone and there is no way to fill that void. For the longest time, we would eat dinner really late, as I'd forget to cook.... until I realised I wasn't forgetting, I was waiting for him to let me know he was on his way, or to walk in the door. I still send him funny clips or photos on Instagram, things I know would make him laugh, and I still have moments in my days even now where I get pissed off that he hasn't called or messaged me yet.
He and I were connected, linked together, and now that connection is gone I am adrift in the world, surrounded by people who can't ever take his place, because how could they have that same fit that we did? I can yearn for company, want someone to hold, to sleep next to, to sit and talk to, but it's not the same. It's not him.
This loneliness is all consuming. I'm reminded of it every day, everywhere I go. I can't concentrate on books anymore- what would have taken me a week takes months, because its hard to read without hearing him in the background on the Playstation. I don't ever sleep well, because that presence is gone, the one that could lull me back to sleep by holding me tight... I wake continuously, reaching out for him before I remember he's gone. I'm reminded every time I see a couple, a wedding, a family, of what I had and what I have lost, what my kids have lost, and of all those moments that we won't ever have together.
It's painful. It hurts more than anything else, this loneliness. It fills me with despair and there are times, sat alone at home at night, where I feel like I'm drowning, it sits heavy on my chest and I can't breathe and all I want is to hear his voice.
And yet......
This pain, this loss, this loneliness.... It shows that connection like this, love like this, is real. We were just two people, from opposite sides of the world, and we met and fell for each other, had kids together. We loved and we fought and we laughed and we cried and most importantly, we lived. The fact that we had that connection, something so many never experience, is such a miraculous thing that however lonely it gets, I am comforted that for those moments that we had, we were connected, and it was beautiful. I can handle the loneliness, because I had- have- love.
And love is what we all want, no? To know someone is thinking of us, caring for us.... I tell people I love them more than I ever did, more than I did with Martin even, because however weird or silly they find it, they always smile hearing it. And that smile is worth so much. It costs nothing to let the people you care about know that they mean something to you. Try it, see what happens. Tell your friends you love them, say it as you hang up on a phone call. hug your family members more and tell them as you do so, you never know who might need to hear it.
If that simple little phrase can make someone feel connected, if only for a second, then the world isn't such a lonely place.
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