I did not attend Jared's funeral, I honestly felt like I was not allowed to. I could only imagine the uproar I would have caused when his family saw me there, I could just imagine them freaking out and kicking me out. Or even being so angry with me that they'd try something completely irrational. I could just feel the hatred and blame as if it were showering down on me.
But I longed to be there, I felt like I needed to see him at least one last time. This was the guy who I gave everything to, who I was real and vulnerable with, who took everything from me...and now he was lying in a casket. Not only that, but I could not even see him one final time for closure sake. As weird as it sounds, I felt like I just kept envisioning myself curling up in the casket with him, that's how desperately I wanted him to hold me one last time. I felt so messed up; after everything he had put me through, I still ached for him. As cheesy as it sounds, it felt like a huge chunk of me had died with him.
Everyone else was allowed to attend the funeral, all of his so-called friends who never actually gave a crap about him. People who claimed that they were "so close" to him, his family who never seemed to want to show they cared before he died. Yet I was not allowed to be there; I felt like I was literally the only person who actually knew him, who actually cared for him, who actually loved him. It hurt so bad, I'm not sure how to even explain it. The whole situation was messed up. Right after the funeral all of the people who supposedly cared so much, went right back on their merry way, his friends all went out to a party. Sure seemed like they all cared SO much...NOT...it was total bullshit. I guess it just hurt so bad that I could not be there with him, when the reality seemed like I was the only one who loved him, yet I was the only one shunned from being allowed the closure.
Anywhere I went I felt so judged by everyone around. Whether it was just my imagination, or reality I still don't know; but it felt like there were sheering glares of blame sent my way from people all around. I felt so out of place and alone; everything I did, everyone I saw, everywhere I went was just a painful reminder of the wounds that encompassed my heart. Like I mentioned, I'm not sure how much I was actually blamed, and how much was just me projecting my own feelings on myself- But I honestly felt like I could not even walk out my own front door without being judged and looked down on. It felt like pain and horrid memories were searing all around, and there was no escaping it.
Even though I made a promise that I would not take my own life, the desire to do so was nearly constant. I felt taken over, almost possessed at times with how consuming the thoughts were. I felt so dark, so full of pain, so far gone on the inside- It was a very scary place to be. I was not in a healthy spot whatsoever, but I also had no clue how to pull myself out of it, and help seemed nonexistent.
There were a couple times I would go to Jared's grave site, taking him flowers and sitting there grieving at the loss. I would always be nervous making sure that no one else was around, I didn't dare let his family see me there. I would lay in the grass next to his grave and cry, saying out loud that I was so sorry, and that I still loved him. It was my way of trying to process the grief I felt inside.
...There in that grave laid the man who shattered everything I was, yet was also the man who still had every piece of my broken heart. Emotionally I felt completely intertwined with him.
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