Without You (Klaine)

1

"Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim."

–Vicki Harrison

{ The song included above goes with this story, so please take a listen. Just swipe right on the cover and there it is.}

--------------------------------------------------

This is a story of love, of loss, grief, and every imaginable stage in between. It's about learning to breathe again after not feeling alive in years, about learning to move on in the midst of the void that consumes your life after loss. And most of all, it is about the ways that friends can change you, bring you back from places you never thought you would escape. And I would know about it firsthand. There were days when I wanted to die right with my husband, and there were days I wished I'd never seen his face. But, above it all, there was an intense desire to live to see the day my daughter met her own soulmate. So, I survived. In spite of the endless horror and grief I felt while doing so. I am Kurt Hummel, and this is my story.

December 14, 2021. NYC.

The morning I lost my husband was at first... the most ordinary morning that could've happened. I was in that hazy state of half-asleep, when Blaine kissed me on the forehead, crawling out of the bed we'd shared for the past 6 years and into the bathroom to get ready. If I'd have known what I would lose in mere hours, I would've not rolled my eyes when my husband roused me from sleep, not rolled over with a harrumph and returned to my slumber, barely enough time to register the last time I would see my husband's face alive.

That morning was like any other, me waking up entangled in my husband's arms, blissfully unaware of any harm. Sunlight pooled in through an open window, casting shadows on the room around us. Our daughter, little Elizabeth, just two, cooed softly from her crib. It was usual that I'd wake up before Blaine, and I gazed up at my sleeping husband, smiling gently when he remained asleep. He stirred briefly, and I laid my head back down against his chest. I could feel his body heat seeping into my bones, warming me and comforting me against the cold, brisk morning air. The morning was so serene and quiet that I could hear Blaine's heart beating, a gentle rhythm, a constant reminder of the daily blessing that was holding me in his arms. And now... that memory of life was a bittersweet taunt of what I'd lost.

Morning slipped away so quickly, and inevitably Blaine woke for work. He woke up slowly, sighing gently and kissing me on the forehead, assuming I was asleep. I wasn't; but I felt so peaceful that morning that I just stayed that way.

After a few minutes, Blaine crawled out of the sheets, unentangling his limbs with mine. He headed off into the bathroom, and little Elizabeth sensed his movement and began to cry. She was only 7 months old, and still crying quite frequently. I leapt out of bed, throwing aside the sheets and going to retrieve my screaming baby daughter. I cradled the squirming bundle of joy in my arms, feeling her warm baby breath against my collarbone. I laid her head against my chest, comforting her in the way I knew she felt safe. She calmed down then, cooing softly as Blaine came out of the bathroom. He began scouring the closet for something to wear, and I smiled softly at my husband's concentrated look. He wanted to look good for work, his first day as manager in a new theater on Broadway.

"Having trouble finding something to wear?" I teased, making Elizabeth look up sleepily with her cornflower-blue eyes. Blaine smirked, pulling off of a hanger a green button-down that complimented his eyes. Elizabeth reached out a plump baby fist, searching for anything to grab hold onto. If I knew then what I knew now, I guess I would've grabbed on, too.