After the event, he sort of tapped out of our daily life together. I tried not to take it personally. The only way I was able to do this was knowing that it wasn't just me. It was all of us.
So, I sent him texts. We all did. We did it out of love. We did it to be life rafts for him. When he didn't reply, I had to accept that he may not want a life raft at the moment and he might not want anyone nagging him into getting on board. Perhaps he needed some time to go under.
In Spiritual Psychology, taught at the University of Santa Monica (USM), we learn that we all have the inner resources we need to effectively deal with our situations.
Trusting this USM wisdom, I had to accept that he knew what he was doing. I could continue to send life rafts in the form of texts and invitations to get together, knowing all the while that they were likely to be responded to with dead air. He really does have all the inner resources he needs to effectively deal with this situation.
It's hard to release. It's hard to accept. And yes, at times I still take it personally. All I can do is keep letting him know that I'm here for when he wakes up from this nightmare. And to know that when he wakes up, he'll have a permanent, heavy, itchy coat of grief that he'll have to learn to live with.
But, there is a silver lining here.
I ran into him at our coffee shop today. He sat with me. I wrote my morning pages. He worked on his laptop. We sat mostly in silence. At one point, I instinctively picked up my phone to text him. A habit. Because I always text him at the coffee shop. I told him this and he said quietly,
"Thanks for not giving up on me."
Best. Day. Ever.
Even seeing our cars next to each other in the parking lot makes me happy.