You were gone in the spring.

I couldn't even bring myself to go outside.

How ironic that as everything around me was reborn, my soul was dying.

Days, weeks, months and months passed.
I began to cry a little bit less, smile a little bit more. I would always miss you, but my life was beginning to restart.

Then it was fall.

My favorite season.

Fall made me crave being outside every second of every day. Autumn air was like a drug to me, exploding trees my favorite sight.

But all of a sudden the crisp air I cherished tasted like poison. The crimson leaves I loved to watch fall felt like daggers in my chest. My go-to pumpkin scented candles deflated my soul, lulled me into depression. Laying in the leaves, inhaling the cool air, watching the sky, all used to bring me joyous serenity; but all of a sudden even the thought of it brought me to the edge of being physically sick. Being outside without a purpose- how I used to spend my time in the fall- inspired genuine, intense anxiety. Why are all the things I love wreaking havoc on my soul? I asked myself.

Then the air took on a biting chill, and it was Thanksgiving.

All of a sudden I woke up and I had no desire to watch the Macy's parade. The thought of seeing my family didn't fill me with excitement, but dread. The Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special that I always looked forward to stirred an inexplicable pressure deep down in my chest. Interacting with loved ones drained every ounce of energy from my body- I had to actively focus on standing, smiling, laughing… The table chock full of turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, so many casseroles, and so many smiling faces brought on a powerful instinct to hurl myself on the floor and sob. It took everything I had to repress it. This is a day of thanks, I asked myself, why do I feel so terrible inside?

And then there was a sparkling white blanket covering the Earth, and it was Christmas season.

Christmas songs took over radios and restaurants and coffee shops, everywhere I went one seemed to be playing. Usually they brought a sense of warming, serene happiness- but one day I realized they were taking on another effect. Every word sung was a breath taken away- almost unnoticeable at first but more and more suffocating each second. Waking up to a flurry of fluffy snowflakes in the morning used to pull me out of my bed and lift me up with energy, but suddenly I found it pushing me back into the bed of my pitch-black room, broken only by the dim light of the television. My cherished Charlie Brown Christmas special all of a sudden brought oceans of tears to my eyes. Some unidentifiable part of me kept desperately avoiding getting and decorating the tree, when it was all I ever used to yearn for. My very favorite Christmas movies- movies I looked forward to all year- sat in the basement in a stack, untouched. I found myself actively working to convey excitement and joy that should have been natural on Christmas Eve. And Christmas morning… Christmas morning. I had never worked that hard to manage a smile in my life. What was happening to me?

And then it was my birthday.

For the first time I can recall I didn't wake up happy. Every time someone wished me happy birthday, every present, every Facebook post brought me to the verge of tears. I had to walk around with a happy face, even though I was falling apart inside, and I couldn't figure out why.

But then I realized,
it's my first birthday without you.
My first fall without you.
My first Thanksgiving without you.
My first Christmas without you.

Ever since I was 3 years old I enjoyed the crisp autumn air with you. Said thanks and stuffed myself with turkey and cranberry sauce every Thanksgiving with you. Rushed out to the living room every Christmas morning to find what Santa had left together.
Enjoyed the excitement of my birthday with you.

In the time before you passed I had thought about how hard it would be to continue. All the pain and gut-wrenching struggles I went through just to continue after you were gone, keep taking breaths and eating, I anticipated. When you lose your other half, it's hard to even want to keep going. What I didn't anticipate was all of the firsts without you. First fall, first Thanksgiving, first Christmas, first birthday. . . I cannot remember a time in my life in which you were not present, a memory you were not a part of, but from now on it's all I will ever know.

And it's as hard as that first week without you.

I walk outside and the air that used to lift me up now sits like tar in my lungs, steals my breath away. I see a pile of leaves and remember how we used to lay in them, and my limbs shake. And I struggle not to crumple into a ball on the ground. I have to sit on my viciously shaking hands and look down at the table with blurry eyes when everyone is saying thanks at Thanksgiving, because what I was most thankful for is gone. I hate picking out the Christmas tree, after all we will never get to put on the ornaments together. What's the point in singing along to a song if I can't see your smile anymore? Getting out of bed Christmas morning takes a tremendous effort, because I already know my only wish didn't come true. I don't look forward to my birthdays anymore, I dread them.
Every single thing I used to love now kills me inside, because I can't share it with you.

And I think that's the most terrible fate one can suffer.