Song #420...

I'm up at 5am. My hands are driving me insane. Their constant itching woke me up. I stare at the ceiling, not completely able to see it through my blurry vision but it's dark and doesn't matter. My heart is racing and I'm anxious for whatever reason. I don't want to be an assistant today. There is nothing else going on but that. I'm not sure I can take one more minute of it.
I exhale and pull myself out of bed. My usual routine is accomplished without much thought. My arms begin to tingle and in my head I'm screaming at them to stop. Once the tingling starts it's over with. My hands are sparked again and begin to blister. I can almost watch this happen. They swell and fluid comes out of them taking weeks to heal. I try to ignore this and get dressed.
I go to Alliance to journal for a little bit but mostly I stare out the window, watching the cars and people go by. I love this time of the morning. The sky is just beginning to lighten up, and everything is still practially silent. It's the only time of day I feel still and somewhat calm. When my Americano is finished I pack up head head home.
Once through the door I'm at the computer charging my iPOD shuffle. As I scroll down the list of purchased songs on iTUNES looking for something "new" to listen to I come across Train's "When I Look to the Sky". I don't remember downloading this. I listen to it, while looking at what number on iTUNES it is. It's number 420. April 20th. The day Rob died. The chorus goes...
Cause when I look to the sky, something tells me you're here with me
And you make everything alright.
And when I feel like I'm lost, something tells me you're here with me
And I can always find my way when you are here...
I stare at the computer screen. Why don't I remember this song? How did I miss it? I don't even remember downloading it but it's reappeared at the best possible time. I don't want to feel any emotion. I shut off my brain as the song continues to play and take a shower.
Later while standing in front of the mirror, putting on mascara, tears come. I blink them back. More come and spill down my cheeks. I stand back and wait for something else to hit but nothing does. I'm not even sure why I'm crying. I wipe my face, get dressed, pack up my work things, put my iPOD in my ears, and head out.
I'm working at our Halsted location this week. I walk there when I can. It's a good solid forty minutes but I don't mind it. I'm approaching the bridge I walk across each time I come this way and the Train song starts playing. My brain starts dreaming up images of publishing my novel and how nice that would be. Then suddenly an idea of getting home from work, and cooking dinner with Rob pours itself into me. In my mind he's there as I vent about work, saying I can't take it anymore and his warm gentle self reminds me that I came here for a bigger purpose and not to worry because he's right here. This yet again sparks the memory of standing on the purple line train platform after my interview with Cyndi telling him I was in love with Art+Science, then flashing to sitting on the phone with him telling him I had this feeling that he was going to leave me...then he died...and while it's just me here in Chicago, I know he didn't leave me entirely. He's been on this adventure with me the whole time. It's just that today, for whatever reason I am desperate to hold him. I want to feel the humaness of him I used to feel. I miss his skin, his warm expressions, his voice, his kisses, his everything. My first year in Chicago has gone by, full of so much wonderful insanity. I am grieving the absence of the experience of sharing this life with him.
I am hit so hard with this grief and hurt that it nearly doubles me over as I walk across the bridge. My legs go numb, my stomach is flip flopping and there isn't enough air in the atmosphere to fill my lungs. I almost welcome this, like I missed it or something. I somehow feel closer to him when these moments happen. It's such an intense release that I wonder how long I've been harboring it. I can't fully explain it. Underneath it all, it's as if he's in some way telling me to hang on, don't give up because it's almost over. It's a teeny tiny little feeling that is barely whispering but it's there and I hear it. Do I believe it? I don't know. I want to but I can't see how it's going to end.
The tears don't stop. They follow me all the way to work, into the salon, and stay with me as I do what I've been doing for 14 months now. While folding towels in the basement, I tell Annie about it, looking for some comfort, some sort of understanding even though I feel I'm not making any sense. Her words fill me up and I'm feeling this rush of another emotional release pour out of me so hard and fast that once again it's hard to function.
"What triggered this?" she asks.
"I have no idea. Just this thought of feeling desperate to go home to him, to cook dinner with him and unload all this stuff, then suddenly it was like, 'Wait. He's not even here.' It felt like I just learned all over again that he's gone."
"He not gone. He's still here." she smiles and hugs me hard.
"Annie! Your client is here" Ashley yells to her from upstairs.
"Thanks for being here." I grin at her.
"Always."
I later close the salon alone and start walking home. I missed a call from Charlie earlier and decide to call him back.
"How's it goin'?" he asks.
"Ok." I nod, head suddenly swimming.
"Any good drama?"
I giggle at this. "Um...uh.." I have plenty to say but I can't form words. I am completely without emotion, without anything. "I'm sorry. I just left work. I'm really tired and can't form complete sentences."
There is something inside me that is putting up a huge wall between me and him. Well... I think it's always been there. It holds my emotions, thoughts, myself essentially and bottles them up as a protective measure. Whatever it is that's holding on to everything is protecting me from giving anything else to this situation. It's not right. It never was as much as I wanted it to be. Something beyond me is holding me back and the more I fight it the tighter it holds on so I let go and in letting go, I have nothing else to share. I reverse everything and talk about him until we get off the phone and I walk home and gratefully fall into bed.