Two years ago tonight I arrived in Florence with George. We drove from Rome via Perugia. Our hotel room was on the River Arno. We had a balcony where we sat and drank wine at sunset. We ran before the wine and the sunset. We extended our stay because George fell in love with the hotel room with the balcony almost touching the River Arno. I dream of Perugia where George and I wandered in the dark.
I have written about losing George a few times. At 22, when I was heartbroken – but quickly moved on…ran on…throwing myself into a new relationship. I lost George for a little more than a day just after Christmas 2013, when he relapsed and we were pretty sure he was dead. I told him I could not go through that again – thinking he was dead. I cried for weeks – and then we worked through it and George recommited to sobriety. And then less than two months later he was dead. Apparently the gods thought I actually could go through it again. 17 months and 17 days later I’m still crying.
If I close my eyes I’m wandering through Perugia with George and driving in the middle of the night to the hotel on the River Arno. When I open my eyes he is gone – again.
Tonight my efforts to move forward seem filled with holes – and my face is once again streaked with tears and creased by sadness. Tonight it feels like I have lost him again.