5/8

I don't know my anniversary or my grandmother's bday but May 8th is a day that I can't forget.  Each moment of that day five years ago is burned into my memory.  Coming home to see TB and RM with their heads hanging low, sitting on the couch waiting for me to get home.  Falling back against the door frame and standing there with my mouth open, unable to ask all the questions that sprang into my head.  Hearing them tell me again that EB was gone.  Listening to the slow words as they left their mouths and the scared look in their eyes because they knew which words were coming next.  The shake in TB's voice as he tried to choke out how he spent agonizing hours home alone with the information, unwilling to call me at work.  That sound haunts me.  Eventually we went to EB's mom's house to visit with her and see what we could do.  She handed over a list of names and phone numbers scratched in his handwriting and asked me to tell his friends.  We all stood around, his mom, his dad, his step-mom and his sister, there with me, TB and RM; each of us staring at the carpet and lifting our heads briefly to meet an uncomfortable gaze of another.  That night we told our friends one by one and then I started on his list.  Only first names were listed and I had no clue who I was talking to most of the time.  The calls crossed Texas and more called in, having heard from others.  I gave out instructions, guidance, information and condolences.  We were all hurting.  We were all missing him.  TB drifted off from exhaustion that night while tears dripped down his sleeping face.  I went out on to our balcony after I knew he was asleep and called my mom.  I just needed to talk to someone, I needed to hear her tell me it was ok since I had said that to so many others that day.  After we hung up I sat out there for hours rubbing my small pregnant belly and crying.  When the sky turned pink with dawn, it all seemed so surreal.  Sometimes I still can't believe that he isn't here.  It has been a very long five years.  I honestly didn't know if I would survive without him, he was my best friend and a piece of my soul.  I still feel a hole inside.  I still feel fucked up.