Cody Spielvogel

Around this time last year I took a photo in this exact same spot with the promise I would keep walking until I feel like I’m healing.

A year later I don’t know what to think. It’s been a long journey, a hard journey. But the more things change, the more they stay the same. It’s getting cold again, and every shiver down my spine, every time I see my breath in front of me, it’s a reminder that you’re not here and that you’re not coming back. When I look out the back door I stare at the streetlight where we danced and you whispered whimsically into my ear, reminded of how exciting watching the countdown edge closer to 0 was. My house doesn’t feel like a home, I glance into the mirror and don’t recognize the person staring back at me. I’m in a dark place. I miss the warmth in your voice and that soft smile. I miss your input and your opinions, your love and support and the drive you instilled. You weren’t a lover, a romance or a fling, but a partner. Equal in every and all things, and the love and respect I carried because of it was immense. I’ve stumbled, regressed, but still keep my head above water, carrying on trying to heal.

But truth be told the only time I remember ever feeling happy was when you were around.

I’ve only managed to make people angry and confused when I tell them I’m not angry, that I’m not bitter or furious, they wonder why I don’t hate you, not even close, not at all. They’re confused when I tell them I only ever wish you the best and that  I hope you succeed, and keeping a straight face convincing my grandmother that everything was fine was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

Truth is, I loved you, I respected you, I valued and appreciated you, and I do still. There wasn’t an expectation that couldn’t be met, or bar that couldn’t be set that I wouldn’t have been confident in achieving because of it. I’m still going, still getting things done, but it’s hard to find purpose and clarity doing so. Writing this was probably the first time I’ve teared up about any of it since the year rolled in.

Its not just you I grieve over or your loss that I morn. I grieve for the family I lost when you left. I miss the little sister I always wanted but never had, I wonder if shes handling her anxiety any better, or if she had the courage to stand up for herself and let people know who she really was, I wonder if she ever found someone else to help her through it, someone who was willing to stay up until the early morning hours to see her through and if she ever did get that job she applied for. I wonder if your mom ever started that baking business or found out how Instagram worked so she could show off her creations. Yeah, she was a narcissistic control freak who could do no wrong, but damn that woman had an insane level of culinary mastery.

I miss the feeling of living with family, falling asleep to the sound of people, the background noise of rustling through the kitchen, the faint sound of a video playing in the other room, the jostling of doors and the snap of a lightswitch as someone navigated through the halls at night. I miss sitting around the kitchen table with people I loved, enjoying a meal and talking about what was being done that day, laughing over something we'd seen online or telling stories from different times in our lives. I wonder if your mom ever forgave me after she found out about my past, or if she still sees the person I am as a man who has genuinely changed or if she sees it as a cheap charade. I miss shopping with your mom and sister when you were away, it was nice not being the most experienced adult and letting someone else take the lead for a while, it was comforting, relaxing. At the time it was exactly what I needed.

I still cringe into the floor over some of the things I said to you toward the end, I wish I had presented myself better, more clearly demonstrated my priorities when it came to what I had given up, and how inconsequential surrendering those things was because it was for you, and that I would have gladly done it again.