It’s been a little over a month since we lost Stewart and I am still trying to find a way to deal with his loss. I put a brave and cheerful face when I am around people, but in reality, I hurt deeply inside. I try to understand why he would choose to take his own life when he had so much life to give. Yet, I know that the Stewart who took his own life is not the Stewart we all knew and love.
There isn’t a moment of the day when I am not thinking about him, wishing he was still around. I miss our talks. I miss his phone calls, laughter, smile, hugs. I miss everything about him. Some days, the hurt is so strong that I find ways to reach to him be it calling his work extension just to hear his voice once again. Or, sending him emails letting him know how much I miss him.
Other times, I talk to him when I am alone and no one is hearing me. It doesn’t matter if it is at home or work, or somewhere in between. I yell at him because I am so angry for him having done what he did, but at the same time I am so sad because we lost someone so wonderful.
I know I have asked him several times to communicate with me through my dreams. Twice, he showed up, but never spoke to me. The third time, it was heartwarming and heart-wrenching at the same time. The third time, we were laughing and he finally spoke to me; and I was so happy. But suddenly, I found him laying on the ground near the rancher’s area at work, covered up by a tarp. He was asking me if I truly wanted to hear why and how he did it (I guess he was trying to answer the questions I have been constantly asking him). But after realizing he wasn’t joking around, the pain that took over me was devastating. I just walked around in circles on the road, yelling several times at him not to tell me because I didn’t want to hear it, and asking him why. And his reply was typical Stew, “Gwen, just relax.” He was trying to comfort me even in my dreams.
I just wonder how he is doing, if he can see how much all of us miss him, when I will see him again. I just wish he was still around.