On its own, the idea of Chris having to leave Hong Kong to work in Canberra wasn't hard for me to accept. On the contrary, I threw my support behind it 100%. We've got to be practical about these things. Neither of us is in a position to financially support the other in the city where we're each employed. And so with an open mind (albeit with a heavy heart), I sent him off on a new adventure.
The daily reality is, though, that there are a million tiny reminders that he's gone. I can't just shut them out; they're everywhere. And these have been harder for me to accept because they're throwing me so far off balance.
His cabinets and drawers are empty.
I did laundry yesterday for the first time since he left. The clotheslines look bare. Naturally. I hang only my own clothes out to dry now. It took doing laundry for the dull ache of loss to finally set in. Gone is the routine intimacy - the simple pleasure - of touching pieces of clothing that belong to him. Clothes that have been on his body.
Every morning, I still see two toothbrushes and two razors by the sink.
But there really isn't any use for the other set.
Last night, I was organizing my Korea and Manila travel photos. None of them had Chris in it. We used to take short holidays together all the time. By force of habit, he would have occupied the space on my left on the photo below.
It's Sunday morning.
He's not beside me.
You cut me open and I keep bleeding
I keep, keep bleeding...
// THE HYPERACTIVE GAY BOY™ //