Hallucinate

I often caught myself staring blankly at my surroundings. Never really seeing anything. Even more frequently I caught myself talking to myself, both in my head or out loud. I needed something to remember her by. My friends didn't understand anymore. It had been four months since Emily died; we had only been together eight months. They thought it was well past the time for me to move on. My grief no longer made sense to them. But it made sense to me.

I tried to remind myself that my life hadn't changed that drastically. Emily was always gone for her job - traveling for a case. So she was never around that much to begin with. It was a lie I had to tell myself to keep from losing my mind. Because if I thought about it too hard, I would remember how when she was home, everything felt right. Because home wasn't our shared apartment - home was in her arms. A luxury I no longer had since her departure.

Grief rolled in like a storm one day, and the cloud hanging over my head never dissipated. My world no longer had light. The sun no longer shined over me. I used to be such an optimist, finding beauty in everything around me. I used to be so full of life and joy. But when Emily died, everything stopped. Life turned grey. Things that once brought me joy now felt senseless. What was the point if Emily wasn't here to enjoy them with me?

When JJ called me on that fateful night, I assumed Emily had hurt herself again on a case. Before even answering the phone, I started gathering my things up to leave for the hospital. I never dreamed when I pressed the green button that I'd hear JJ's sniffle and a soft, "I'm so sorry, y/n. They did everything they could, but she never made it off the table." I could still hear my own gargled, cut off gasp echo in my ears even now.

It couldn't be possible that one morning I simply said, "Goodbye. Be safe, I love you," and that would be the last time I saw her. The last memory I had of her could not be her rushing out the door for a case. My mind refused to accept that she was never coming home.

The blaring, shrill ring of the school bell yanked me back into reality. I sighed. Of course I had disassociated again. I found myself zoning in and out of my own life multiple times a day. It was as if I were a bystander in my own life, watching it pass me by. How long had this one been? I looked at the clock. Great. I missed my entire plan period. Kindergarteners started filing in my room, musky from recess. I begrudgingly stood up and started pulling mats down for nap time.

These kids deserved so much better than my despondent, half-assed commitment to teaching. I didn't know how much longer I could do this. Each day felt harder and harder. They say grief gets easier with time, but I didn't find that to be the case. It felt like cinder blocks were tied to my every limb and I was thrown to sea. It was a chore just to keep my heart beating.

And I felt even guiltier because I knew Emily wouldn't want me to be like this over her. Emily wouldn't even recognize who I had become. I didn't recognize who I had become. All the things Emily previously loved about me no longer existed. She used to love my smile and warmth, but now I felt like a zombie. She used to love my laugh, but it hurt to laugh without her. And above all else, she loved how good I was with the kids in my class, hoping that one day we'd have at least two of our own.