In the beginning I couldn’t stop talking about him. It was as if I had to relive all the moments we ever had together – over and over and over. Even a few months after, my conversation revolved around G. Any topic and I could find a way to relate it to what he did. I still do it sometimes, but I’ve reined myself it. I didn’t want to bug people. They didn’t need to hear G this and G that. And so I tried and stifled those discussions and talked about mundane things instead.
But while I do that I usually wage a war inside – with heartache.
When I read about heartache in novels, I dismissed it as over sentimental tomfoolery. And so life taught me a lesson – in feelings. Yes, the heart does ache and how! Sometimes it’s like someone is deliberately poking a knitting needle (yes, specifically a knitting needle) right in the center of my heart. I can feel the thick point pushing through and breaking tissue. It causes me to double over and my hand flies unbidden to stop the pain.
More often though it’s a vice grip. Something tightens around my heart and squeezes it so that all the blood is drained out. But the pressure doesn’t stop. And then the breath catches, throat chokes, and one needs to gulp in some air. The face twists in pain and tears well up.
It happens at random. Anytime, anywhere. With almost no provocation. Some image, some sound, some smell will trigger a memory. Some circuits in the brain will make associations. His face will float in front of my eyes – sometimes laughing, sometimes pensive and sometimes in the cold storage.
Sometimes I wish I could curl up in a ball and not wake up, or scream to high heavens and get rid of the knot in my throat, or claw my heart out and stop the ache.