Widow's Voice

I miss having a person.

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I miss having a partner. A best friend who you can be your complete self around. A “go-to” person. The one you cannot wait to tell the gossip to. Or the big news–bad and good. The person that drives you absolutely crazy but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. I miss seeing my name next to his on invitations or signing both of our names on holiday cards. I miss walking into parties together and saving each other a seat. I miss cooking meals for two and having someone riding in the passenger seat. And yeah, I miss bossing someone around. I miss taking naps next to someone. I miss picturing every future milestone with a person. Planning a life with that person. I miss having a person. My person. 

Do I want this kind of relationship with someone else, though? Do I miss these things about Boris or do I miss these things in general? How do I sort that out? 

I am jealous of people who have their “person”. Even if it isn’t a romantic partner, but just a very close best friend. I don’t feel that I have that right now. But, I feel lucky that I had one once. I feel lucky to know the feeling of having a person. I want that feeling back.

About Victoria Helmly

My love story began in 2005 and though my love is no longer physically here with me, our story has not ended. I met Boris when we were 14, but it was not until our junior and senior year of high school that we became more than friends (he was my first kiss!). We went to the same college and although our relationship was a bit rocky through our early 20s, we made it through. He was my person. Our relationship grew stronger as we matured and learned about one another more as adults. I was certain that he was my forever. We talked about the future a lot and we knew we would get married, but we did not want to rush—he was still finishing graduate school and I was just starting my first full-time job. We did not realize how little time we had left together.

In the summer of 2017, Boris was hospitalized three times for active suicidal ideation. This was a heartbreaking, exhausting, and life-changing experience. After 10 months of therapy, medication, and support groups, Boris died by suicide on April 7, 2018. My life now has two parts: the one before April 7, 2018 and the one after. My very best friend, my person was now gone.

If you were to ask how I am doing now, 2.5 years later, I would say I am okay. I am living. My world continues to spin, and I continue to move forward. However, I still carry deep sorrow and loneliness. I have struggled with PTSD, anxiety, and depression. Sometimes I still cannot believe that he is actually gone. I still feel him with me, and I know that I will never stop loving and missing him.

I am currently in school for my Ph.D. and live just outside of Atlanta with our cat, Kitty Cat (Boris is responsible for the creative name). I work as a graduate research assistant currently, but I worked for three years with our State Unit on Aging prior to going back to school. I love movies, my friends and family, long walks, and traveling.