26 December 2007


Three syllables killed my Tig. 

I still think about him every single day. I still miss him every single day. I still cry for him. I still flee in a blind, nauseated panic every time Lamb's Angel Gabriel or Antony and the Johnsons catch me unaware. In fact, the only time I can listen to them is when I'm writing abt him bcs he then feels closer, my soundtrack of pain and fleeting comfort. I raise my eyes every so often and look at his picture on the shelf in front of me and I feel that, perhaps, if I stretch hard enough, if I try hard enough, if I am good enough, brave enough, if I believe enough I will be able to touch his face again, even if barely.

But, and this but is doing me in,
it hurts to even type it: I have accepted the fact that he is dead. He is dead, he has been for exactly 3 years today but now I know it, fully. I do. And it feels like Tigicide at the hands of love.

I will never be able to cope how death grabbed him. Personal phobia aside, who could? He was my boyfriend once, he was my best friend, the soul of an angel and the face of an archangel, buried alive under those tonnes of water. I will never be able to not imagine and replay what I've imagined and howl bcs I do not know that it was swift and painless. The gorillas will always be around, I suspect, biding their time until they see fit to populate my nightmares with fruitless search and rescue parties again - see, I just wrote safe and rescue parties, the gorillas drift quietly very close to the surface at all times, never to be saved by me.

This is a tribute. It is brutal, it is how he died. Water is raw and powerful and relentless and he was in the way. My Tig was in the way. Bless the day he came to be.

Ashes to dust, lovers to friends, why must all good things come to an end?

4 furballs:

CarpeDM said...

I will be thinking of you all day today, you and Uzi, with all my love.

kausa said...

My thoughts are with you as well.

Savtadotty said...


Aurelia said...

I'm here, thinking of you.