Wyoming is coming into town this weekend to celebrate our two year anniversary. It is strange for me to talk about an anniversary with another person, yet it's starting to feel normal. It's hard fighting my guilt monster.
I guess the best way to say it is the love I have is compartmentalized. I'm assuming it's similar to how a parent loves multiple children. I've heard a parent say that they don't think they could love their second child as much as they love their first but once the second child comes along they realize their heart expands, it doesn't push the first child out or minimize the love for the first child. I said something similar after Jeff died. I could never love another as much as I loved Jeff.
Jeff holds a place in my heart and Wyoming holds another place. I don't think about it like Wyoming is replacing Jeff. It's like my heart expanded and he's still there and now Wyoming has a place next to him. My heart just got bigger to make room for Wyoming. It's really hard to put into words.
I've written previously about how I will never love another the way that I loved Jeff and I still stick by it. I don't love Wyoming the same way I love Jeff. It's different but it's also kind of the same.
I feel like I love Wyoming in a way that I wasn't able to love Jeff. The love I had for Jeff was a love I took for granted, a rose colored love that had never experienced anything tragic, like a death. No one close to me died in the 10 years I loved Jeff.
This love for Wyoming is experienced, it is reflective, it is not taken for granted because I now know from Jeff's death that it is not a given, it is fragile, it can change in a heartbeat.
It is true that I will never love another the way I loved Jeff, but it doesn't mean that I can't love deeply again.