It controls me

POV

Millie 

It's here. 

The dreaded day of June 22nd has arrived like it does every year. I'll get the sympathy texts from family like I do every anniversary. It's bittersweet to receive the messages because I know it's coming from a loving place but on the other hand, I'm the one that took my mom's life, it's sad and humiliating through and through. June 22nd is always the same routine, I cry myself to sleep the night before, wake up absolutely distraught like the event happened only hours ago, and play every minute of the day in my mind the same way it did that day. I go into self-destruction mode and watch the clock remembering what I was doing at that exact moment. For example, it's currently 9:00 am, physically I'm at work, mentally, I'm sitting at home with my mom while my dad is at work. I'm eating breakfast while I talk to my mom about the dress we're picking up and from there I'll continue on with every detail, living the day in a divided reality. 

This year I prayed I wouldn't do this. Grief is wild, it's ups and downs, growth and backtracking but at the end of the day, grief is unpredictable. Something may be a delightful memory one day and downright destroying the next. I'm better than I once was, but I never know what it'll be like day to day, what will be triggering or what will be healing. Grief is a never-ending journey that I don't think I'll ever really get a handle on. 

I stare at my computer screen, reading something but the words just don't want to stay put in my mind, I'm too mentally distracted to concentrate. I should've taken the day off but I'm too new to be doing that just yet so instead I asked for a half day. I only need to make it until twelve. 

Three more grueling hours and I can give in to the misery that I'm trying so desperately to conceal. I'm not entirely sure why I asked X to hang out with me today, I think that at that moment it felt right but now I'm kind of regretting it. I don't want him to have to sulk with me, sure misery loves company but I love him more and I don't want him to feel dragged into it. I tried to change it up this year, to be stronger than the grief but who was I kidding? I don't control it, it controls me. 

I text X 

Hey, I'm all good today, let's hang out tomorrow instead? 

Okay, so what? I lied..

I reread this stupid report on the computer attempting to convince myself that I'm okay. 

My phone buzzes against my work desk making me jump a little from the loud vibration. 

X: I wanted to see you, I miss you, are you sure you're okay baby? 

Me: ya I'm fine. Miss you too 

I'm not fine though, this day will never be fine. 

The minutes feel like hours and the hours feel like days until twelve o'clock comes around. I've gotten nothing productive done today, it was a waste coming in but at least I did, at least this year, I left the house. 

I grab my phone from off the desk and my purse that is strapped around the chair and leave my office. I only need to make it to my car until I can liberate my held-back tears. I open the door to leave the office and to my complete and utter surprise, he's standing twenty feet away from me head-on. 

"X.." I say trying to hold myself together a little longer. 

"Come here baby," he says in such a gentle, warm tone. 

I drop my purse to the the concrete ground and run to him wrapping my arms around his neck. The battle has been long with my tears, they stream down faster than they can come out. 

"Shh, shh, it's okay," he says patting down my hair. 

"How did you know? How did you know I needed you?" I sob out. 

He pointlessly wipes away a tear, the seal has been broken, and it's not going to stop anytime soon. 

"Because baby, I am you, I may still have a living mom but the anniversary of her leaving me hits the same way every year," he says and it breaks my heart for him. 

"I love you, X," I say with as much depth as I can muster. 

He kisses the top of my head, "I want to take you somewhere Millie." 

He breaks our intimate entanglement, picks up my purse from the ground, and interlocks our fingers to guide me toward his parked car. 

"Where are we going?" I ask a little lost. 

"You'll see," is all he's willing to give away.