All Summer in One Day

Happy birthday to me.

Today, I turn 44 years old. It is my second birthday without Phil, the second year in my life after him. I think about how I celebrated last year: A cute boy of 20 years in my bed.

I had requested this lad to be there as I did not want to be alone on my birthday. Our romance (or whatever it was) did not last long. The wolf pup was TOO young for me and I knew it. He had someone else, too; I was a "someone on the side" as opposed to being a "primary relationship." His values included concepts like "open relationships" and "pansexual polyamory" which continue to confuse me. He spent my birthday with me, though.

Bear, I wish you were here in the corpulent ursine flesh. I could stand a few hundred hours of hugging/cuddling/snuggling therapy in your arms. I have not been held since you died. While I have hugged other men, I seem to do all the holding. I am not ready or even capable of being a fully grown Bear, myself; I am still your Cubbie. I am lost in the wilds of this world and alone without you. No one I meet is anything like you, even when I hope with all my heart to find you again and even when what I truly need most is you. This world is full of strangers, mi Oso. They never stay long. I am between two realities, honestly. One is a world of ghosts and memories where you are alive. I smile in that place. I can hear you, though it is often only at a whisper, say my name. I can remember for a moment how it felt to have you hold me. I like that place. The other world is filled with strangers and monsters. I am scared of this place. In it, you are dead, Bear. I cry for you, miss you, need you, and cannot be with you in this second world. Friends and family are in this secondary reality. They visit me but always return to their homes after too short a time. I return to the first world where you are. I tell you and our home that I am back when I return. I imagine you running to hug me, excited to see me again as I am to see you.

Can I come home again, Bear?

I do not like this second world at all. My family is gone from here. Mom died 8 years ago as of last January. You died 18 months ago as of a week ago. I am still here. I am surviving, barely. The job is a job but not stable and not a career. Our home was purchased by the bank. I keep hoping for this "better" promised me by others who have lost lovers...but I am not seeing it manifest.

How many years of this second world, this cursed life after you, my Beloved Bear, must I endure?

I want to come home again.