The Ultimate L: Losing the Love of My Life

Flashback to 2016, pt. 1

Today, I picked up my journal in an attempt to get my creative juices flowing and to write more stories. I prayed, “God, please allow me to land on a page of a story that needs to be told.” I knew not where my hands would wander. When my spirit quieted, I was led to a date in my journal. November 30, 2016.

The page before, “I’m back with Bradley and spent time getting to know this man differently. I went to Indiana to visit his family and enjoyed all of the wonderful people that I got to meet. It’s wonderful to get to learn more about his life – and my own as a result. I also learned how much driving I could truly complete. That shit is not easy. But I’m back with Bradley and I wonder what it is that the future will have in store for us.” Excerpt, 1/1/2015

Some cryptic words I wrote.

I was a very inconsistent journaler back then, and never saw the problem with leaving my journal neglected for a while when the motivation to write became non-existent. This was truly to my disservice. 

My next major entry would be on 11/30/2016:

“On Thursday, November 24, 2016, My love, my sweet sweet love, Bradley Thomas Arthur Moore spent his last day on Earth. Bradley died, and I was there to witness his final moments with his sister, Erika.

The night before, Bradley and I spent our last night sleeping together in bed. Prior to going to sleep (we were supposed to leave Wednesday night, but Bradley wanted us to wait one more night). We had just come back from the Wal-Mart. Bradley wanted to wait until he could get a good night’s rest and drive in the sunlight. We ordered some bland Mexican food and picked it up on our way back to the house. Bradley insisted that the place had a funny smell, and we were not to go there again. (Don’t worry, baby. I won’t).

We went to sleep that night and Bradley insisted that we leave in the morning and told me to look on the bright side of things – the car was already packed, so we didn’t have to worry about packing it in the morning, we would just get dressed and go. He slept in the grey Gap thermal I purchased for him, and his blue shouts. I slept in a new set of PJ’s I purchased, a grey plush zipper nightgown. The dog slept on the bed with us as well. It felt like a perfect night.

We set off to leave NYC by 8:46am. We arrived in Maryland by 2:30pm. In between that time frame, we stopped at a rest stop because I had to pee. Bradley ordered a white mocha misto with soy milk, and I ordered a pumpkin spice chai with soy, and a double chocolate brownie. Bradley told me that they burnt the first brownie in the oven, so they had to heat me up a new one.

I’ll have to keep writing about 11/24/16 later. I know I didn’t get far, but I just need to give myself some time to get these words out. The day has become far too great of a challenge to continue writing about the saddest day of my life.”


Dear Bradley,

I love you. I miss you. I pray your soul is at rest in God’s good graces. I pray to see you again when it’s my turn to be called home to glory.

Ten days from now will mark four years since you’ve departed this Earth. Bradley, It’s essentially taken me four years to go back to one of the most emotionally raw periods of my life – one of the darkest.

Truth is, a part of me died when you died that afternoon, so I’m wondering why God would even call me to write about this moment knowing full damn well I no longer know the details of the story in such a way that could accurately paint your last moments on this Earth. Even when I reread the entry, I see how much you cared for me – how you had to reassure me by insisting everything would be okay as long as we were together.

And then you left.

Everything was not okay.

But, with God’s strength, Bradley, I think I am finally on the right track again. When you died, I had to confront my lack of self-love and low self-esteem. I didn’t have the confidence that you gave me anymore – that sense of security.

I didn’t realize until you died that I could no longer find those strengths inside myself, and that’s why I felt so inadequate at being able to give you the support I feel you deserved while living.

I’ve made some bad decisions with men. I can’t even lie to myself. Since you’ve passed, I’ve shared myself with many people who like me, were probably hurting deeply in ways that they couldn’t express. It was like I was taking on more broken energy thinking the momentary pleasures would make me unbroken.

Let’s just say this: Remember when you told me there are more ways of showing intimacy than through sex, and that sex alone is not true intimacy?

Took me four years, but I finally understand what you mean.

In many ways, while I started this blog focused on a completely different man, this blog is very much so about failing to find parts of you in others. It’s about expecting men to be a fix to my problems, when in fact they’re experiencing similar ones. It’s about how lack of communication opens up room for false expectations. It’s about letting men stand on their own and not comparing them to you.

I don’t even know how intelligible the words are that I write to you. I just love you. And I miss you. And it won’t be the last letter I write to you. There’s a lot I need to get out of this mind. Bear with me.

Love always,

Jamila

Published by Jam

I'm on a journey towards a better understanding of self through written reflections on my romantic relationships, situationships, entanglements, and complicated friendships.

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