Feelings don't change because you leave the country

For those of you who read my blog, you may have been wondering why it’s taken me so long to update it. Forewarning: Here’s the truth, and it’s not uplifting in any way. I apologize.
I have only been writing my blog on days that go very well, and I am able to (for a very short period of time) forget the reality of my situation. The first few weeks here were extremely busy. I would wake up in the morning, go to work, eat lunch, have a lecture, go on some escapade around Delhi, eat dinner, and then go to bed. I didn’t have much free time. Everyone around me was new, and I was getting to know them. While this was fun, it also ensured that I never had any time to myself, which inadvertently meant that I never had any time to cry over my longing for Aaron. I would sneak in some tears in the middle of the night, or escape on a short visit to the toilet, but I was very limited.
Since the last volunteer group left, I have finished my orientation and no longer have any roommates. Which means more free time, more time to think, more time to feel. It’s coming up on the 5th month mark since Aaron’s death. How is it possible that all that time has passed? I’m still in the same place, but world is continuing. This simple fact is utterly heart breaking.
I haven’t written a blog since my trip to Rishikesh because I haven’t been able to bury my feelings since then. I have felt Aaron’s absence all around me. My logic tells me that I wouldn’t feel this absence so intensely half way across the world in India, because Aaron was never here. But I am, and Aaron was always with me.

These are a few entries from my journal while I’ve been avoiding the blog:
“Aaron should be here. Everyone always says ‘He’s there with you in your heart.’ I know they’re trying to help me, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. I can’t talk to him, touch him, hug him, smile at him, smell him, laugh with him. He’s now a small box of ashes next to my bed, a photo album I won’t let leave my side, a necklace that hangs by my heart, and memories I fear to forget. I miss him more than I can express.”
“I’m very lonely today. I’m in a city of 15 million people, and I’ve never felt so alone in my life. One person can make all the difference. I wish I could talk to Aaron. Even if I couldn’t see him or hug him, I just wish we could talk.”
“ I didn’t get out of bed today. I cried. I didn’t eat breakfast today. I cried. I didn’t get dressed today. I cried. I didn’t eat lunch today. I cried. I didn’t talk to anyone today. I cried. I didn’t eat dinner today. I cried. I didn’t leave my bed today I cried. It felt like he was really gone today. So, I cried.”

I’ll stop there, because I know it’s outright depressing. These are feeling that I would have regardless of my location on the planet though. I don’t want this entry to mislead anyone. I am so glad that I made this trip, and whole heartedly believe it was the best thing for me.
There are things about India that are infinitely comforting at this time. When I was in America after Aaron’s death, the simple normalcy of everything was devastating. Everyone was just going about their day, like normal, in an organized fashion, while my life was in absolute chaos. I was stopped in my tracks, watching the world go by in a blur. I would zone out to the point where I couldn’t hear anything going on around me, and there were times of the day that were totally filled with silence. Silence is a dangerous thing when you have a mind, especially when that mind is full of the painful truth.
India, being almost the exact opposite, is filled to the brim with insanity. There seems to be many things here that don’t associate with any type of logic, and I love that. People show up hours late to a planned engagement, or better yet, they don’t show up at all. I see it almost everyday. I know a good portions of American’s would have a heart attack over this, but in India it’s completely acceptable, and in some cases, even expected. For a person, such as myself, who is having a hard time knowing what they’ll be able to do in a few hours, much less the next day or week, this is an extreme comfort. If it’s one of those days where my heartache moves to a whole body ache, I don’t really have to do anything. Before I left on this trip, I would make plans to meet with people, but at the last minute decide that I just didn’t have the strength at that time. I felt rude, inconsiderate, and like a bad friend. Here, on the other hand, I just feel like a fellow Indian.
There are people everywhere, always moving, always talking, always doing something. This leads to the best thing about Delhi, India… There is NEVER any silence. To make this ever better, all of the noise going on around me is in a language that I don’t understand. My mind doesn’t try to listen to the words that I can’t comprehend, so it just relaxes into a loud drone that makes it almost impossible to think- a beautiful escape. And I’ve come to realize that sometimes that’s all you need. Not everything can be fixed or healed in a timely fashion. You can’t always feel better when you want to. Sometimes pain is unbearable, and it’s these times that you need an escape in order to regain your strength for the next time you are slapped in the face by reality.
Now that I’ve thoroughly depressed you, have a nice day ☺
I’ll have another good day soon (it’s inevitable thank goodness), which will lead to another good blog.