I have a new roommate. He is very unexpected, but his residence with me is now permanent. Some days he just won’t leave me alone – following me around at home, communicating with me while I’m at work. I find it distracting, and difficult, and my life no longer feels like my own.
He’s obviously needy; some days I can make things better by just spending a little bit of intentional time with him, but some days that just isn’t enough.
The roommate is very… watery. Everything about him screams water. Flowing hair, flowing clothes, blues, deep purples, greens. Looking into his eyes are like looking into the ocean that is sparkling with rays of the mid-day sun. Somehow, his size changes from day to day.
“I don’t mean to cause you trouble” – he says. “I’m here because of you. I tried explaining it to you – every person has someone like me assigned to them. When they eventually experience loss, as everyone does at some point, then we show up. I am the bridge between you and your beloved Sara and George.
“You can ignore me, but it won’t make things any better, or any easier – at least not long-term. I want to help you reach your goals, figure out what your life going forward will look like, help you stay connected with your loved ones in a way that is meaningful and true.”
I look at him sarcastically – “You really think that sending me reminders of my dead family all day every day is helping me? It’s like death by papercut.”
He hops up on the desk next to me where I am writing and is suddenly very small. He perches on the edge of the sea-turtle coffee mug that some very dear friends gifted to Sara and me. “You have to learn how to deal. They’re gone. Your world is forever changed by having had them in it. Right now, I know I seem harsh. It’s all raw, and new, and it really hurts. I keep poking you and sending you reminders and memories and messages… but you have to work through this in order to come out the other side and really figure out where to go from here.
“You don’t have to know where you want to go, or even that you do want to keep going. That’s for later. Right now, I’m just helping you feel out this new reality, understand what it looks like. We’re going to experiment, see how things feel. Some days, I’m going to really make things hurt – but other days, you might be surprised to find the pain is just there in the background. You have a lot of work ahead of you, and I’m who you’ve got to deal with to get through that work.”
I feel tears welling up. I have no words, I’m just sad and angry and tired. I’ve been sick, and tomorrow’s Monday, and I have a bunch of stuff I have to get done that has nothing to do with my new roommate and the work he has assigned to me.
“If you really do the work, ” he continues, “Then I promise eventually my presence will be less disruptive and you’ll have more control over when and how we interact. Not complete control… but some. For now, just take things a day at a time. I’m not trying to wreck your life – I didn’t cause your family to die. But since they did, I’m here, and we’re in this together.”
He gets up off of the coffee mug, and nods toward the door to the home office I’m working in. “You should go get some of that other stuff done. I know you’ll feel better if you do. I’ll be back to talk with you more, later.”
Note: this was written based on a writing prompt provided to me through a paid course I am taking. I am not including the prompt, because the daily prompts are a critical component of that course.