Homecoming

Prologue

I had a terrible day behind me. If only a day. For the last half year, I have lived as if only from day to day. I found no consolation in anything, and although everyone assured me that it was all right and that I understood me completely, I saw it differently. No one could understand me. I was unhappy and felt lost. More precisely, as in a vicious circle from which no way out.

It was Friday night and instead of sitting in a bar with friends, I was sitting alone at home. Actually, they were our mutual friends, but Jack wasn't here anymore.My only companion now was a bottle of alcohol, in which I drowned my anger and depression, which clung to me like relentless tongs.

My stomach tightened, my heart ached, and a chill ran down my back. Although six months had passed since Jack's death, I still couldn't remember the wound, and every time she throbbed in my throat and felt like I was suffocating. I missed him so much.

I bowed my head and looked at the obituary. On the front, Jack's date of birth was printed in decorative letters and the date of death was separated by a hyphen. The thought of that comma meant his short life always made me sick.

I read every word over and over, and it seemed to me that I sat on the couch for hours, thinking about how my life, and with it, had changed completely.

Life without Jack was emptier, and although I had more time for myself now, without the slightest hesitation, I would trade it all back so that I could feel his warm hugs again, tender kisses and kind words.

Sadly, I became estranged from my friends too. I started to avoid them because I felt like the fifth wheel of a car. They were all happy couples and I was just an odd number at a table in a restaurant or bar. When they took care of each other, they unobtrusively held hands, I just nemo fought the tears on the edge. At that moment, I also wanted my Jack to sit next to me, gently stroking my thigh or back, and giving me his favorite glances exactly as he always did. But I knew I wanted the impossible, so I started avoiding them.

I even discovered in myself a new unknown feeling, jealousy. Yes, I was jealous of my friends as well, and to be honest, of the whole world. I found it unfair. Everyone was having fun, getting drunk, laughing as if Jack was still here with us and even Hillary and Marcus were expecting their first baby. Life went on, only mine seemed to stop.

I was terrified of myself that I could not enjoy the happiness of our friends and stand by their side. I knew Jack would wish that as well, but the dull pain of looking at happy couples always opened a blow to my heart. I've repeated a thousand times in my mind that it wasn't their fault and that they couldn't blame Jack for dying a damn tumor, but it was stronger than me.

Maybe everyone thought I was selfish and couldn't enjoy them, but it wasn't. I was looking forward to them, I just couldn't express those emotions out loud. I immediately began to compare my life to what I had lost with Jack's death. I know it wasn't right, but life itself was unjust.

I couldn't relax in their company, and despite their best efforts, I felt lonely, but I felt most lonely in a quiet apartment. I was unhappy and everything in this damn space reminded me of him.

For a long time now, I had been toying with the idea of whether it would not be better to move out of the apartment, change the environment and maybe even return home to my parents. At least for a while, until I gathered a bit. I loved London, its cheerful nightlife, countless crowds of tourists and the atmosphere of a city that never slept, but I also saw Jack everywhere. In one restaurant, just around the corner, we went for steaks, because according to him they prepared the best in the whole city, in another we went for sushi, in another we just had a drink and have fun with friends, in a small cafe opposite our apartment we they went for coffee or ice cream and the like on Sundays. The whole city simply reminded me of him. I was desperate for that.

I didn't get much sleep that night, and when I dozed off, I still had Jack's face in front of my eyes. At six in the morning, I gave up and got out of bed sweaty like a mouse. I decided to go out for a little walk and vent my head a bit. With sadness in my heart, I went to a nearby park and sat down on one of the many benches. Since it was Saturday morning and quite early, I was here alone.

One would say that I should get used to the loneliness, but the opposite was true. She was killing me, and lately I had more and more such weak days, which I basically cried into a pillow and thought that one day I would definitely die alone and abandoned in the apartment. No one will even remember me, because everyone will be immersed in their lives. They will take care of each other, children or grandchildren, and they will not even remember me, and I will end up buried somewhere in the farthest corner of the cemetery, where my monument, if I have one, will not be seen by anyone.

Tears were wetting my face again and I couldn't stop their flow. I needed to sue someone, but I've had enough of those likes that it will hurt over time, that life will get back to normal, I just have to be patient and blah blah blah. Nothing helped, nothing worked. I was also tired of those compassionate glances and constant stupid questions about how I was doing, and how I put up with it and listening to how brave and strong I was, and that they would have fallen into my place long ago.

But I wasn't strong either. I was broken, depressed, weak and scared. I often wondered if my life really made sense, because nothing in my life made sense anymore. Jack and I have known each other since we were fifteen and have been married for seven years. He was my soulmate, he could make me laugh, encourage me, and even though we sometimes quarreled like all normal married couples, we could never be angry with each other for long. I loved him.

But Jack wouldn't come back and I had to think about myself and my future. I was alone in everything and I had no one to share my responsibility with.

I was hopelessly alone. I longed to throw myself into my mother's embrace and forget, at least for a moment, the burning pain of losing him and feel the warmth of home again. I was painfully aware that it could not go on like this. I needed to make a radical change and disengage from everything that was dragging me down. But on the other hand, I took it as a betrayal. As if I wanted to get rid of Jack forever and erase him completely from my life, even though he was no longer alive. I often cursed him for allowing himself to die and leave him alone, as if he didn't care how much I loved him.

I wiped my eyes and got up from the bench. Several times I took a deep breath of fresh air and blinked into the blinding day to ward off intrusive tears. I looked around, but I was alone. As otherwise. I wrapped my coat tightly to my body, which protected me from the frost, and slipped my hands deeper into my pockets.

At a slow pace, I walked back to the apartment, where I spent less and less time. It wasn't like that without Jack, and I couldn't stand being in our apartment anymore, where it weighed heavily on me every night. The apartment was suddenly extremely quiet, the only thing that sounded in it was the muffled growl of the refrigerator, the quiet noise of the TV, which I turned on anyway just so that I wouldn't go crazy from the silence.