I don't post updates here as often...

...not because I no longer think of Lionel, or because I have "accepted" his death. In fact, it's quite the opposite. Everyone said it would get easier with the passage of time...but it hasn't. It is just as hard. I don't write in the blog because it is painful to even see it. I wouldn't dare go back and read over any of it. That would just be like reliving the whole experience and I do enough of that as it is. For a while now, I've been keeping myself very busy, stupid busy, because I know that, as soon as the motion stops, as soon as it gets still or quiet, my heart and mind go instantly back to what I spend so much time and energy trying to avoid. Early on, in the hospital, before I realized what was actually happening, I took some photos and video of Lionel on my cellphone...mainly because, after his many previous hospitalizations, once he had recovered and come home, he found it fascinating to see what he looked like in the hospital and I think he got a certain sense of relief from seeing how far he had progressed from how bad his condition had been. It let him know that he had, indeed recovered. Of course, this time, he never recovered. And one day, looking for something else on my phone, I stumbled across a short video of him, there in is hospital bed. It was devastating, like having a brick wall fall on me. I was plunged into a deep depression from which it took days for me to emerge. And yet, I didn't delete the photos and videos. I can't. Just like I haven't taken his name off the mailbox in the lobby of our apartment, or his name off our outgoing phone message. That would have a type of finality that I still cannot face. I have a bad habit of saving old voicemails...and everyone of his that happened to be on my phone when he got sick is still there. Sometimes, I will listen to a couple of them, just to hear his voice, saying normal things like reminding me to stop at the store on the way home, or asking what I wanted for dinner. Even the one angry message he left when he was worried about me being out so late at rehearsal, is oddly comforting. The ones he left when he was sick, sad, or feeling bad are heartbreaking. The apartment still looks pretty much the same as when he left. Some of his favorite shirts are now hanging with my things in the closet. I notice them, unexpectedly sometimes, and my heart gives a little leap. I'm not alone, a friend is staying with me, but he does not disturb any of Lionel's things, including his toothbrush and other items still in the medicine cabinet. Today, I started to exploring my transportation options for finally going down to the military cemetery in Quantico, VA where Lionel is buried. I was wondering how I would be able to find his grave among the many, when it occurred to me that they must have a website. Sure enough, they did and the search function made it easy to find information on Lionel. What I did not expect was to find a photo of his gravestone. It was heartbreaking to see...and yet I was glad to see it, if that makes any sense. Apparently, they have volunteers who take and post photos of gravesites for the loved ones who cannot travel to visit in person. The photo of Lionel's grave was probably posted shortly after he was buried. There is no grass around it. It seems unbelievable that it has taken me this long to go looking for this information. But maybe I wasn't ready to see it yet. But now, ready or not, I have. I was even able to pay a fee and sponsor his memorial website, which removed the miscellaneous ads and enabled me to post a photo of him, as well. That was oddly comforting, even though I know that it is only symbolic and that he is no more there in that grave than he is anywhere else. And yet, at the same time, he is everywhere. And so it goes....