“It’s so hard to lose someone but remember he’s in a…”
I’ve always struggled with religion. I was raised Irish Catholic and being gay was not accepted the way it is more openly today. I’m not sharing this to start a discussion on religious beliefs but to paint a picture of this aspect of my “widowed place”.
Growing up, I was always the well-behaved kid who did his homework, treated people kindly and stayed out of trouble. What no one knew was I feared I had already failed. I couldn’t shake the idea of finding the man of my dreams, which was against the rules of the “other place.” I spent many nights apologizing to my ceiling asking for my feelings to be put in a “different place”.
I spent my growing up telling myself I’d eventually move my heart out of the “wrong place”. For the time being, just deny it or I’ll end up in the “hot place.” Keep it to yourself so you’ll end up in the “good place.”
College opened up to a bigger life. After trying my hardest, I accepted that there was no way I good be such a good person and a predetermined cosmic mistake. Luckily, friends and family celebrated me. I had found the “safe place”.
All grown up and life moved me from east to west, from the big city to this “coast place”. Each location, for a time, felt like the “right place” but locations could never match being with Clayton – the “best place”. Meeting at a bar but in different timelines, we carried on until we met again at my loft pool in a “surprise place.”
Years later I find myself in an “unexpected place”. People try to reassure me that he is now in an “amazing place”. My heart hurts each time I hear those words because it means being in “another place” is a “wonderful place” rather than being with me. There have been times where that young boy resurfaces, lays awake looking up at the bedroom ceiling thinking what if Clayton dying is to put me in a “punishing place.”
No matter how wonderful we may think of the “upper place”, Clayton being with me will always be the “better place.”