I feel a lot of things these days. I feel love, most of all. My boyfriend's name is John, which was a bit unusual to me at first, but not any more. He is John, and Jonathan is Jonathan, and that is that. I actually think it's nice that John is not like Jonathan. There are definitely qualities and characteristics that are similar (things I would always want a man to have), but there are many qualities and characteristics that are completely different. With unique personalities, I don't seem to compare John to Jonathan, and the best part is that I love them each for who they are...
I realized over the last month that I am afraid to express my feelings. I have told John this, but I often feel like I can't just be the way I would normally be in a relationship. I don't always feel like I can be myself. Out of respect for Jonathan and out of respect for all of my family, a part of me actually feels ashamed to be in love. I don't want to feel that. I feel like falling in love will make family think that I don't still love Jonathan, that I don't care about him anymore. I feel like falling in love will make everyone think that I have moved on. Well, I guess I have, in a way. It's hard to explain unless you are living this. Even though most of the family knows about John, I am not sure they all know how much I love him. When I am in love, I like to talk about it and to feel like I can express myself. This time, I feel suppressed and it's all my own doing. My own psychological thing. I know that family only wants me to be happy, but I seem to believe that if I tell people I am happy, they will think I didn't love Jonathan. They would think...how could I possibly be in love and ready to move on after only 13 months? Is that a long time or is that a short time? Whatever it is, it's the right time for me...I feel happy and good about where I am.
Moving on doesn't mean I stopped loving and missing Jonathan. Not for one second. Moving on doesn't mean that I am 'settling' for someone to fill the void. Moving on doesn't mean I have forgotten him, or will ever forget him. I can still hear his laugh and see his smile. I still remember what his hugs felt like, his breathing, his being, his everything.
Meeting John, I have to somewhat put that aside. As tolerant and willing as he is to listen and allow me to tell stories about Jonathan, I'm sure it's hard for him. Not coming from a situation like mine, I wonder if he equates it to breaking up with someone. I feel it acceptable to talk about Jonathan anytime I want because Jonathan is not here anymore. We didn't break up. We were husband and wife, married, and in love. Maybe it's not okay to talk about Jonathan anytime I want. I have to put myself in John's shoes, if the roles were reversed. I am a pretty understanding and tolerant person, but if I had never been through a tragedy like this, I am not sure I could really reason that it was okay for John to talk about his late wife all the time. Yet, John has never said one word about it. I feel so blessed for his understanding and his patience. At the same time, I often tell stories because Jonathan was my life for the past 8 years. My stories include him- are all about him. It's difficult to talk about who you are without including stories of the person who helped shape the last 8 years of your life.
Probably the weirdest part of all of this is that I want John to know who Jonathan was. I have always been best friends with the people I have dated. To share with John who Jonathan was, means so much to me. It's then, almost, that he knows him a little bit. Is that weird? I have so many emotions going through me that while I write all of this, I wonder how it all must seem to John. When John comes over, I never feel like myself. I actually don't fully like hanging out in my house with him. Sometimes I can't shake the memories of Jonathan and I in this house. John might say, oh, I like this and I say, yeah, Jonathan picked that out, or Jonathan really wanted this. John asks where a screwdriver is. It's in the messy pile of tools in the garage, that I have to explain. My house isn't my house because it's full of things that Jonathan and I created together. I never feel like my own person. When I'm at John's house, I'm more relaxed and I'm happier. Admitting these things is not easy because it doesn't mean, for one second, that I don't love or miss Jonathan. It just means I'm ready to be happy with someone else.
What it means is that I'm tired of being sad. I am in love with John, I'm happy, and I'm ready to move on. At the same time, I feel stuck in this house full of memories that seem to hold me back. At the same time, I'm not so sure I can just let them go that easily. Feeling what I am feeling and being in love is hard to admit- not to myself, but to family and friends. As much as I know they want me to be happy, I would never want them to think I will ever forget Jonathan or ever stop loving and missing him. The most amazing part of this is that I have experienced the fact that you can hold love for someone you have lost, but there's still a full heart to love someone else the way I loved Jonathan.
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